


I Can Give You More

by kirasha, Titti



Series: Moving Forward [1]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Journey Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Moe's death, Sam has a crisis of faith and G must find a way to convince his partner not to leave NCIS, while at the same time keeping his own newfound feelings to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Give You More

**Author's Note:**

> Art by acquiescence at http://users.livejournal.com/acquiescence_/157164.html

Missions were full of dangers, requiring everyone to be on his toes at all times. The adrenaline rush was as much part of the job as the guns were and, when the mission was completed, there was a low inversely comparable to the high, but things were different this time. Sam felt like he had been on one long mission since going undercover at the Oakville prison, never taking a break as they chased computer chips that turned out to be money. The tension had been high even for him, who was used to high risk missions. The low was supposed to come next, but Sam didn't feel tired or numb; he was pissed and angry. Worst of all, all of that anger was directed at the two people he was supposed to trust the most: Hetty and G.

Sam didn't show any of it. A sardonic smirk, a glare, a few punches against a bag were enough to keep everyone at bay. Kensi was the one who actually asked if he was okay, and there was only one answer he could give. Of course, he was good. It wasn't her fault things were so fucked up and he wasn't going to take it out on her. When things became too much, he went to one of the different gyms he belonged to and boxed away from curious eyes and possible questions. At work, he dealt with the case load, working alone at his desk when possible to avoid any unnecessary conversation. In fact, he avoided eye contact or anything else that could lead to a 'talk'. People might not like it, but they stayed away.

 

G stood at the top of the stairs and watched Sam at his desk in the bullpen. He was sure his partner was aware of both his presence and his scrutiny. But, in twelve minutes -- G had timed it -- Sam hadn't given any indication of it. There didn't seem to be much G could say to fix things. And that put him at a loss. Words were his thing. G could talk his way into or out of practically anything. But, no words could bring back the dead.

"I should have been here," he said quietly. She had made no sound and was still out of his line of sight, yet G knew the moment when Hetty approached and was close enough to hear him.

"You had your own dragons to slay."

"Dragons are a long-lived species." G wanted answers. But, he'd like to think Sam would have been more important to him, after the years they'd been partners and friends, than a mystery that had gone unsolved for decades. Only he hadn't been given the chance to make that choice. "I should have been here. You should have called me sooner."

"You were on personal leave, Mr. Callen."

"Agents on leave can be recalled when necessary." G turned finally and stared at her. "You just spent a good deal of energy trying to talk me into trusting my team, not going off alone. Well, that man there is my partner. He trusts me and I wasn't here to watch his back. What kind of lesson was that?"

"Mr. Hanna was more than capable-"

"No, I'm not buying it. You let me go off on my own, off the grid, to look into family matters. Three days later, you started lecturing about going off on my own, not trusting my team. Yet, you let Sam go in there on his own, knowing Moe was as close as family to him, with only Nate for back-up, and seem to want me to believe it was the better choice. It should have been me in there with him. But, you didn't call me and you left me out of it on purpose. Maybe I've got a reason for those trust issues?"

They stared at each other for several heartbeats.

It was Hetty who broke the silence.

"Perhaps, in retrospect, alternatives could have been considered."

"Perhaps?"

"I understand you are angry with me-"

"You could say that." More, he was confused and a little hurt, wondering if Hetty hadn't thought he could handle the op if his mind was on personal matters.

"I understand you are angry with me. Mr. Hanna, as well, I'm sure. Whether it was the right call, the call was made and the hand dealt. The mission was a success."

"And now we pick up the pieces." G went back to watching Sam instead of glaring at Hetty. The mission was a success. But, what was the price of their success?

"You were called when you were needed."

Hetty was gone again before G could formulate words for how little the statement reassured him.

 

"Time to saddle up." G told Sam as he came into the bullpen and headed for the lockers just beyond. "Just got a call. Exley and Powell have a job in Canyon Country this afternoon." The ringing of his alias' phone had finally brought him out of the thoughts he'd been left in with Hetty's departure from the stairs. The California Gold Taxi Service. His personal leave, the same reason he hadn't had Sam's back in the prison op, had also affected this op and earned him a lecture from Sam on the benefits of having a partner...if one could call a few sentences a lecture. But, it was Sam. It counted. "You want to drive us into the station?"

"Don't I always?" he said, picking up his duffel bag and getting up. They'd change, get ready and slip into a new persona, which was all right because Exley and Powell liked and trusted each other.

"Always drive or always want to?" G's head was turned toward the locker where he had his CHP uniform and helmet stashed. He didn't need to be looking at Sam to hear, even feel, the difference in the conversation. G might be trying for more of the usual levity. But, Sam's toneless answer betrayed him as much as the silent glares he'd been giving the staff, the team, and everyone else who might try to approach him.

G just was more of a risk-taker than the rest of them. Stubborn.

"Hell might have frozen over," he went on, looking over the locker door to flash a teasing smirk at the other man. "You might want to let me drive the Challenger today."

Sam snorted. "Hell has nothing to do with that. I'd have to lose my mind to _want_ you to drive my car. I might be forced to let you drive it, but never want to." He put his bag into the locker after taking what he needed. He really hated these boots, but a job was a job, and he'd done worse things than wear ugly uniforms and uncomfortable shoes. "If you bought a less expensive car, you could be driving. Even corrupt cops can't afford your car." He slammed the locker door closed. "Think you can be ready before the end of the work day? This must be why you can never be on time. You talk too much."

"Tell you what. I'll curb the chatter until we get on the road to the station," G countered, still with the smirk, "if we can stop at Pink's on the way in. Two and a half hours up to Canyon Country. I don't want to miss lunch in addition to my chance to drive your car.

"And there is nothing wrong with my car! I happen to like sleek, dark, and powerful." He'd downright _loved_ the Aston Martin he'd been driving a few months ago. But, the Mercedes he had now was a better option and attracted less attention than the Aston Martin. Sometimes it sucked having to stay as invisible as he did outside the office. At least, it sucked when his common sense kicked in louder than his need for speed. "It works for me."

Sam cracked a smile. "You have to compensate somehow. I don't need a car for sleek, dark and powerful." He walked toward the door so he could go and put the uniform on. "You'd better hurry up, because you'll be walking to Pink's for that lunch if you aren't ready soon."

* * *

Empty quiver. A nuclear missile was missing and it was their fault. Sam was determined to do everything necessary to recover the missile. He certainly didn't need Hetty's implied treats about losing their jobs for that. If anything, her little speech only showed how far apart they were. For Hetty, everything went back to politics.

Sam hated politics.

He left the politics to her and did his job. Even the close range shot didn't stop him. Instead, at the first opportunity, he went into a bathroom and taped his ribs. He could work like that for the next six hours. He continued to investigate and finished the job. It wasn't until night turned into day that he finally went into the locker room and let himself feel the pain.

He stood with the head against the locker, breathing hard. Rubbing his chest had only helped so much, which meant not at all. He could drop G off and then stop by the ER to x-ray his ribs. Hopefully, there was nothing major, because explaining why he had worked with fractured ribs would be worse than the pain.

And that was how G found him when he got out of his debriefing with Hetty. There would be another conversation between them later. Things had been said in the ops center he knew would continue to be an issue with her if they couldn't come to a detente. But, it would wait.

Judging from the looks of things, Sam wouldn't. Or couldn't.

G drew closer, but didn't say anything right off. Although, he couldn't stop the flash of concern he was sure was written all over his face. He'd been there when Sam had taken the shot, watched as his partner had gone down from it. And, he wasn't unaware of the potential complications. Picking up his bag from where he'd left it on the bench before Hetty called him into her office, he turned. "I'll drive you." He held out his hand for the keys and preempted what he knew was coming. "Don't argue."

"You need to go home. We worked through the night." There was no reason for both of them to stay awake and Sam wasn't about to fall asleep with the pain, even if he'd been injured worse in his life.

Sam grabbed his bag, flinching a little before straightening up. "Let's go _and_ I'm driving you, but I'm taking tomorrow- today off. You'd better not destroy the world while I'm gone."

"Yes, we did, which is why no one's working today. We've been on the job for twenty-four hours now and the case is closed. Everyone's going home to sleep. They'll call us if something comes up before tomorrow morning." G left his hand out and open, expectant. "I don't sleep, remember?"

His partner hadn't exactly been pushing him away, but there was still a wall there that hadn't been there before. If G let him, Sam would just keep going, leave the wall, and pretend things were good until it was too late to go back. G knew Sam as well as his partner knew him. "Sam..."

"G." Sam ignored the hand and walked outside to his car. If he was able to walk, wear a vest, carry a riffle and shoot people, then he would be able to drive himself to the ER. It was one of the many things you learned as a SEAL, how to get to safety and help even when injured. Sam ignored the part where you let your teammates help you ,because he wasn't ready to give that to G. And, maybe that was the biggest problem he was having.

He put the duffel bag on the backseat and opened the driver's door. "I can drop you off or you can ask Kensi and Deeks for a ride. I don't need a babysitter. I need a partner when I'm working."

The muscles in G's jaw clenched, but he got in the car -- passenger side -- despite the sting in Sam's words. Now wasn't the time to push when Sam needed to rest. That much was obvious by the way he moved. He supposed he deserved the verbal slap for not being there to watch the other man's back. But, he was growing tired of the multiple reminders of his failure he'd gotten throughout the day.

The first few miles passed in uncomfortable silence with Sam driving and G staring out the window.

"I don't babysit."

"Noted," Sam answered. He had tried during the case because it was necessary, and many of the things he had said to the team and suspects could as well have been directed at G. But, now the job was done and the pain was stronger, he had no patience for the verbal games, or even for their usual banter. There was nothing else left but the exchange of important information. "I might take tomorrow off as well. I'll text you in a few hours to let you know." It would depend on what the doctors told him. "Tell Hetty." He wanted to speak to her even less.

"No, take the day and don't worry about letting us know unless you need longer. I'll deal with Hetty." It was easier for G to watch the West Side pass by out the window than to risk looking at Sam.

"You _are_ planning on getting checked out?" G hated hospitals and doctors, would do anything he could to avoid them. Didn't mean he wouldn't push Sam into it if he need it. He didn't believe the time off was because of that wall between them, the one that seemed to be growing taller instead of shorter. And, that worried him.

It worried him more that Sam wouldn't let him help, wouldn't let him in even enough to admit to the injury G was almost certain had to be there. And, maybe it was selfish. Maybe G was pushing because he needed to reassure himself.

"I'm not you, G. I'm the one who tells you to take care of yourself because I know how critical it is to take care of your body." Sam spoke calmly as he navigated the early morning traffic. "I'm going to the ER as soon as I drop you off. Depending on what they tell me, I'll know how long I need." He looked at G for a moment, as if trying to make a decision about what to say, or even if he should say something. "I have it taped, only way I could work without slowing down. I'm thinking a fracture from the pain. I can't back you up like this; things are bound to go wrong. When I know, I'll let you know," he added, because he wouldn't keep his injuries from G or the rest of his team if they could interfere with his job.

"It'd be more efficient to go there first." G finally turned his head to regard his partner impassively. "If it's fractured, you shouldn't delay and I'd be there to hear the diagnosis myself. You would only need to get whatever rest the doctor orders." He could worry just as easily from the waiting room as his own sparsely furnished living room. And, he was going to worry. It would be impossible not to worry. Sam might be the team's mother hen, but even the mother hen needed fussing over once in awhile.

Like when the only thing between him and death at point blank range was a layer of Kevlar.

"You should have said something before." But, Sam would never say a word until he knew with absolute certainty that his injury would impact his work. And, he called G stubborn. "Let me go with you and make sure you're fine. Then, I'll leave you alone."

"We had a nuke to find and a deadline. Or heads would roll," Sam said with just a hint of a smirk that was more sarcastic than anything else. "I taped it. The pain wasn't bad enough to make me think it would puncture a lung and I know pain. I was still able to help." He probably could have done more, but he had relied on each member of the team to hold his or her own, and they had all delivered.

He looked at G again, snorting. "How is coming with me more efficient? I'll leave the ER and still have to drive you home while on pain killers." He stopped for a moment and then nodded. "Fine, but we'll pick a hospital near your place, easier to drive there."

"Or, you can get off at the next exit and go to UCLA Medical; I drive your medicated ass home and find my own way home from there."

Sam ground his teeth in sheer frustration. It made sense, it was exactly what he would have said if their positions had been reversed, and saying no would have looked childish and petty. He still didn't want to say yes, but he put on his turn signal and got to the right lane until they reached the exit. "You just want an excuse to drive the car," he muttered, but drove to the ER. He'd complain more later, when he wouldn't be in so much pain.

* * *

He hadn't been wrong: a fractured rib. Sam had patiently listened to all of the instruction, but he knew them already and he knew his body better than any doctor. He also knew he was not twenty anymore and compounding the injury wouldn't do him any favors, which meant taking a few days off, whether he liked it or not.

Being home was not pleasant, but he gave him time to look at alternatives. Sam was looking at a possible relocation and at the private sector, but he also knew unless the job would make a difference, he wouldn't be interested. Hetty was wrong, he didn't want revenge. Revenge wouldn't bring Moe back; he wanted justice.

Sam was scrolling down the page of federal jobs when he heard the front door open. He picked up his gun and walked barefoot through the house, gun pointed, tension all over his body. Slowly, he walked out of his room and walked toward the entrance; he rolled his eyes as the room came into view, before putting down the gun. "Aren't you supposed to be at work instead of annoying sick men?" he asked, making his way back to the bed and the many pillows that made sitting less painful.

"Sick men who don't want to be annoyed shouldn't give their partners keys." G grinned as he followed Sam back to the bedroom and leaned his shoulder against the wall by the window. (The glance out the window to make sure he hadn't been followed was so automatic it barely registered in his own mind he was doing it.) Still, he eyed the bruising on Sam's chest with thinly concealed concern. It had been easier to tell himself Sam was okay when he couldn't see the discoloration of his partner's skin. "You gave me a key. Therefore, you must want to be annoyed when sick."

This was unusual. Sam was in the bed. G was doing the checking up. Part of G was actually enjoying the role reversal. Another part thought their world had been thrown askew when he found that tin soldier on his sister's grave and hadn't yet righted itself. Had he not been unsure of the reception, G would have already been teasing Sam about how having his partner there hadn't protected him as much as Sam had said it would.

But, he didn't want to think about that, either.

"I took a long lunch. But, I can save yours for my dinner if you don't want it." He held up the take out bag he'd brought with him.

Sam turned off the laptop and let it rest on the bed, since it was easier than trying to twist and turn to put it on the nightstand. "I gave you a key for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Like, if I decide to take a vacation and you need to water the plants," he said. "That type of emergency." If there was a real emergency, keys wouldn't be needed. They had kicked enough doors down in their careers.

"You're not eating in my bedroom, leave breadcrumbs everywhere, and then I have to clean up after you," he said. "Get your ass into the living room," he said, standing up again. "There's beer in the fridge if you want. Water for me."

"But, if you clean up, how will you be able to follow the trail and find me?"

G got water for both of them. He was still technically on the clock and would have to go back to work sometime. Hetty wasn't going to let him put off the rest of the paperwork he had pending for too much longer. Coming back into the living room, he set the water on the coffee table -- on coasters -- and separated out the food order between them. He knew better than to ask if Sam needed anything. He wouldn't get a straight answer if he did. But, he could subtly check the place out while he was there and see if there were things that needed doing. Dishes. Laundry.

"You don't remember the one time Macy asked me to water her plants while she was in Washington, do you?" he asked, jumping back to the original conversation now lunch was settled. "She came home to dead bamboo."

"I should have known better," Sam answered. "I should have given Kensi my extra key." Between all three of them, he doubted any of them could keep any plants alive anyway. "I'm sure she wouldn't be stupid enough to come in without calling before. It's how people get killed," he said, eyeing G.

"Maybe not." G shrugged. He hadn't been worried about Sam shooting him. "But, she'd probably bring Deeks with her and a couple bags of 'things you might need' she put together last night while watching infomercials." He paused to take a bite and swallow. "Those are in my trunk outside, though, if you'd rather do this her way."

Sam grabbed the bottle, and took a sip, more thirsty than hungry. Staying in bed wasn't conducive to a healthy appetite. "I bet I wouldn't have to follow crumbs to find her either. She doesn't disappear on people and I still could find you without crumbs. I'm that good."

Another bite allowed G to check the impatient sigh that was his first instinct at being called out on disappearing. He was giving Sam leeway for being injured and still being in mourning. "If you're that good, I don't need to leave the trail and you didn't need to get out of bed with no clean up required."

The banter was the cornerstone of their partnership. Despite all the jokes about a higher meaning, Sam was convinced talking made them work together better. Right now, he felt completely out of sync and had no idea what they were discussing anymore. He could blame the pain meds, but that would be a cop out. "What the hell are we talking about? I didn't want crumbs in the bedroom. I was talking literally and not figuratively." At least, until G had started with the word games and Sam had no interest in playing along when he felt like they were speaking different languages. "Look, G, I appreciate the food, but you really don't have to do this. I'm fine, another few days and I'll be as good as new. It's all good."

"We're not talking about anything." This time G did sigh. He didn't know if he was pushing again or if Sam was still pushing away or if they'd just forgotten how to talk to each other over the last week or so. "I know I don't have to do this."

Focusing on eating for a minute let him regroup without having to speak. Maybe there was just a much simpler reason why usually Sam did the checking while G was hurt -- G sucked at it. He was trying not to hover the way he felt he should, but it was harder to do than he thought now that Sam was without his shirt and he could see, in technicolor blues and purples, exactly how close he'd come to losing his best friend and partner. Sure, it could have been closer. G had been closer to dying himself a year and a half ago and had the eight bullet holes to prove it. Only it didn't matter. If Sam hadn't been wearing a vest, he'd have been gone before G could have gotten to him.

And, for a moment, G had thought Sam was gone.

"That's not fine." He tipped his own bottle toward the splotches adorning Sam's chest. "It doesn't remotely resemble fine." He stood and began clearing up what was left of lunch. "But, I'll get out of your way and let you rest, then."

"It's a bruise. I've had worse," Sam replied. The bruising didn't keep him out of work, the rib did, and not for long, because he had no intention of leaving his team one man short. "You're here already; you might as well eat your lunch first. Hetty will find you something to do if you go back." There were always long term covers they could work while not on an active case. He reached for his own food. "And thanks."

* * *

Leon Vance was a born politician, and learning how to feel the pulse of the intelligence community was something he had accomplished shortly after graduating from the Annapolis naval academy. In the past two decades, he'd improved tremendously, he had made many friends to go with the many enemies, and those friends would whisper morsels of information that weren't in any official report. Leon enjoyed knowing those tidbits, except in some cases, when he learned things about his own agents through outside sources.

Reaching for his cell, he called Hetty directly. This was one phone call that didn't need to go through their respective offices. "Hetty, congratulations on your latest success." Habaza had fooled them, making them look for a man who meant little in the grand scheme of things, but they had destroyed another terrorist group before it established itself. It was a success.

"Thank you, Leon. And, to what do I owe the pleasure? You didn't call on this line just to offer congratulations better served with a video call to the team itself."

"Part of your team is making its way back from overseas. It wouldn't be right not to include all of them." It was even worse when one of the people making his way back was the one looking to leave. "However, since I have you on the phone, how are things going there? There have been some ups and downs lately. Is everything all right?"

"Indeed, it wouldn't." There was a slight pause. "It's been stressful few weeks for all, but they pull each other through when this happens. I have no reason to think they won't do the same now."

"That's good to hear. Then I'll consider the rumors about Sam looking for a different line of work to be just wishful thinking on the part of other agencies," he said, putting her on notice without disclosing his sources. "I'll call back when Callen and Sam are in LA."

"Of course. We'll look forward to that call. Good day, Leon."

* * *

G left the range and went straight to his car. He'd driven them in to work that morning and he was glad of that as it meant he could take off without tracking his partner down to drive. Maybe he'd even come back for the bastard and drive him home. If G didn't get out of the office before he ran into Sam, chances were it wouldn't be pretty and murdering his so-called partner in the bullpen was a good way to get fired.

Not to mention arrested.

Tossing his bag into the backseat of the Mercedes, he slid behind the wheel and pulled out as fast as if he was in pursuit of a suspect. Faster, even. Only what he was in pursuit of was even more elusive than a terrorist intent on disappearing into the melting pot that was the Los Angeles population.

G drove on autopilot, the car seeming to find its way to PCH on its own and turning north up the coast. There was no destination in his head. He was just driving, getting as far away from the office and Sam as he could and hoping his head would clear before he hit Santa Barbara, or worse, San Luis Obispo.

At this time of year, traffic at mid-day on PCH wasn't even an issue. They'd had a colder than usual winter and spring was shaping up to be an actual spring, which meant the Spring Breakers were in Palm Springs instead of Los Angeles. Locals rarely hit the beaches before the mercury hit 80 unless they were surfers or beach bums like G. And the tourists would all be in Hollywood gawking at the preparations for the Academy Awards. So once the lunch crowds from the coastal towns cleared out, it was just G and the road with only a few other drivers.

Contrary to what his team thought, he actually liked highway driving...when you could drive on the highways and not park on them at ten miles per hour during rush hour. At eight in the morning, he preferred taking surface roads. But, between nine and four? Or later, between eight and six in the morning? That was when he could _drive_.

The Pacific passed in a blur on his left, the familiar cities of Manhattan Beach, Venice, and Santa Monica on the right. It wasn't until he got further north, up to the small inlet only area locals and surfers remembered existed this time of year, that he finally stopped. Locking the car, he made his way over the rocks and between the boulders the separated the beach from most of the road in this area. He didn't have anything with him but his badge and his gun. He'd left his bag in the car. But, he didn't need more than that to sit on top of one of the smaller boulders, southern cliff at his back, and stare out across the water.

Not that he really saw the surfers navigating the rather impressive swells out there.

In his mind's eye, he was replaying the conversation with Hetty from the moment she'd found him at the range. He'd known something was up by the way she approached. Hetty never let him see her coming unless whatever it was she had to say was upsetting.

And, it was.

There had been a lot of words and, in pure Hetty fashion, none of it was said directly other than to reiterate the congratulations on a job well done from the Director's video call to the team that morning. But, G was smart enough to get the barely even subtle gist. Sam wanted out. He'd been putting feelers out, looking at other jobs, and he hadn't said a word to anyone. G had the impression Hetty thought there was something _he_ could do to change Sam's mind. He doubted it.

Sam hadn't said a word.

Not one.

Things hadn't been the same between them for weeks, ever since Moe's death. But, G had thought they were starting to get a little better before the trip to Yemen. It'd be slow, but maybe they'd find their way back to the easy partnership they'd had before. He missed that. He'd never thought he'd say that about another partnership. But, he missed the Sam he knew, the one who bantered and meant it. He missed the little secret smile and shared glances that contained entire conversations just between them.

Clearly, he was the only one who did.

Now, Sam wanted to leave and he hadn't even told G.

This shouldn't hurt so much. It was old hat, after all. It certainly wasn't the first time G had watched a partner leave him like this. Hell, for a long time, he'd been the one to help them to the door. Sam had been the one to change that, to start getting through to G in a way no one else had before, and make him see that sometimes having someone you could really trust at your back _was_ better than going solo. After four years of partnership, G had even begun to think this was something that could last, something he wanted to last.

Damn. Why was he thinking like this? It was like Tracey's betrayal all over again. But, he and Sam weren't anything like he and Tracey had been. For one thing, he'd been in love with Tracey. And, that couldn't possibly be an issue now.

Could it?

Fuck.

Somehow, G had let himself do it again. After he'd sworn not to repeat his mistakes in getting close, especially to his partner, he'd gone and... Fuck. He was an idiot. There should have been signs. He should have seen this coming. He should have _stopped_ himself before he'd been so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. When was he going to learn?

Apparently, not soon enough. Sam was leaving him, too.

Splashing and giggling drew his attention back to the beach. A group of teenagers had arrived, which meant it was later than he'd thought. Standing up, he brushed off his pants and watched the ocean a moment longer. Maybe he should just let Sam go, let him slip away like almost everyone else in G's life.

But, even as he thought it, he knew it was wrong. He couldn't do that without breaking apart inside.

Damn, what a mess.

G had no idea how he was going to fix things so he could keep their friendship. Anything else was hopeless, he knew. G's luck never lasted and the man had kids for fuck's sake. If he knew what G had just realized, Sam would likely be the first in line to beat it out of G. But, G could settle for keeping his best friend. He'd fight for that much.

Of course, that meant he had to get a move on and get back to the office before said best friend started to wonder if his ride home had abandoned him. He should just make it.

Where he went from there was anyone's guess.

 

Sam was finishing his report on Abdul. This was more than a report; it was supposed to be closure, but not the way everyone assumed. For a moment, out there, he had considered what Hetty had said, that he'd be getting what he wanted, that he'd be getting revenge. He had hesitated before shooting, because he had almost believed her, because getting what he wanted would make him feel better, but it hadn't. When G had asked about the hesitation, Sam had mentioned he wanted to be sure it was about justice, and it was in part, but it was also about anger, and that hadn't gone away with Abdul's death.

He was angry at himself for trusting Hetty and not insisting they call G, for letting Moe continue with the operation, for improvising an op without providing the right backup. There were so many things for which he was angry. For a time, he'd poured that anger into boxing, then into teaching Deeks how to think like an agent and not get himself shot again, then there had been Abdul. Now, he was home and there was nothing else to focus his anger on.

He needed to find his balance again, because anger got you killed and got your teammates killed. Maybe he should go to the Mosque on Friday night, letting the familiar words from the Qur'an help him find an inner peace that was missing for too long. That might help, although he doubted it. Even his Faith reminded him of Moe and the many ways he had failed his brother.

Sam saved and sent the document. There, the report was done and now he wouldn't have to think of Abdul anymore. He shut down the computer and put it in his bag. Now, it was a matter of finding G, who'd been conspicuously absent for the past few hours. He didn't have to go far. G walked in just as Sam grabbed his things to go look for his partner. "Another solo trip?" he asked casually. "Do you need time or can we go?"

Deeks looked between the two from his desk. Sure, NCIS agents had classes, but Deeks had common sense and people skills, and he knew when it was time to abandon the ship. He packed up quickly and stood up. "Kens, let's go or we'll be late."

Kensi blinked. "Late?"

"Yes, for that... thing that we were going to? And we're going to be late."

Kensi looked at Deeks and then at Sam. "Late for the thing. Right." She grabbed her backpack. "Let's go. Sam, Callen, see you tomorrow."

Deeks smiled at them as he passed by. "We'd stay and chat, but we're late."

"For the thing," Sam said, staring back at him. "We got it." He followed them with his eyes, before snorting. "Subtle as an elephant in a china store."

"Whatever." G shrugged, trying to pretend he hadn't come back from a personal epiphany to his partner's own brand of subtlety -- not very subtle if Deeks not only picked up on it, but made a beeline for cover and Kensi didn't argue, but went with him.

"If you're ready, we can go." Of course, Sam was ready. He had his bag in hand and was clearly waiting for G, who'd misjudged the time needed for getting back in the late afternoon, his mind on other things, -- things like the man in front of him and the confusing mix of things G wanted to do about him, including punch him now. "I'm sorry you had to wait. I went out for a drive. Misjudged rush hour. My bag's already in the car. Let's go," he added, turning back the way he'd just come from to head toward the car.

"I haven't been waiting," he said, shrugging off the apology. "I just got up to come and find you. You have impeccable timing today." Sam followed G to the car, and put his own bag on the backseat and then sat up front. "A case?" he asked, staring out. Maybe it was fate or maybe a cosmic joke, but it felt like more and more of their alone jobs were being activated lately. Or maybe it just felt like that, because of the distance that existed between them.

"Not a case. Just a drive." If Sam only knew how very late to the party his timing really was, G thought. Pulling out of their spot, he focused on driving and trying to keep his thoughts to himself until he could get Sam home. Despite the longer time, the drive back from the beach hadn't done anything to help him figure out what he was supposed to do about either Sam leaving or his own personal revelation. The moment in the bullpen had just put him that much more on edge and G wondered if he really would be driving to San Luis before the night was over.

It'd been a long time since something or some _one_ had gotten under his skin like this.

"You want to stop for anything on the way?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm good, and you must have been in the car long enough." He didn't ask why G had been gone so long. Traffic wasn't bad enough he needed hours to get back. "Everything okay?" he asked after a moment.

G glanced at Sam in surprise, the inquiry unexpected after the distance between them. He'd made it clear it wasn't work and they didn't really do much anymore but talk about work. That may be why he then surprised himself by answering honestly. "I don't think it is."

Sam turned his head a little too fast to hide his reaction. Everything was fine; it was always fine. The question was more their way of saying 'everything will be fine, hang in there'. They never said things weren't okay unless it was directly related to a case and then there was a problem with their investigation; everything else was still okay. "That so? Any more toys on graves? A little more notice if you're going off again."

His fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter as G forced himself not to react the verbal face slap he heard in Sam's words. "I haven't been back to the cemetery in awhile," he said calmly. Perhaps too calmly. He was tired of the thinly veiled rebukes and recriminations clothed like banter or suspect interrogations. "Don't worry, if the rumor mill is true, I'll likely have a new partner soon and my personal leave will be his problem, not yours."

Sam should probably be surprised, but information was their business. It was a wonder he'd kept this under wraps this long. "You should know better than to trust the rumor mill," he answered, just as calmly. "If and when there is something to know, you'll be the first to know. You won't find out from Hetty." The only news he'd let Hetty deliver would be news of his death and only because he couldn't deliver a message after death. "Until then, your problems are still mine."

"I should know better than to trust anyone." And that was the biggest problem of all. G had let himself trust Sam, think of him as more than a partner. Now, it looked like Sam was going to prove G right -- no one truly stayed, ever -- just when G was beginning to think otherwise. "Forget it. My problems are as much yours as your problems are mine. I thought we were friends as well as partners. I was wrong. It's not a big deal." Reaching forward, he switched on the radio so they wouldn't have to talk anymore. Honesty had been a mistake.

Sam reached over and turned down the volume. "I'd settle for partners," he said, glaring. "And not just when you want it to be, but all the times, and it is a big deal. I don't do part-time partners. I need someone to be there all the times, and not when he feels like it. I've given you plenty of leeway, G, and I've never said anything, but not this time. This time someone I loved died because you were off chasing ghosts. The past couldn't have been as important as someone's life, even if it hadn't been Moe's, but we disagree on that, and even after you came back, you left me to deal with Kensi and the op, while you chased more ghosts. I get that your past is important, but it's never as important as the present or future."

"No, we don't disagree on that. We disagree on how clairvoyant you apparently think I am." G took the next exit and pulled over. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have when he was supposed to be focused on driving without getting them killed. Killing the engine, he turned in his seat. "I didn't _know_ , Sam. When I asked for leave, it looked like a choice between that and filling out reports in the office. I couldn't look into it without taking leave and doing it on my own. There was no way resources were going to be allocated to it. The past _is_ the present when I'm under surveillance and there are photos of me being passed around while people I don't know exist are tracking me, warning me, watching me.

"But, I still wouldn't have gone if I'd known about that op. I may not always ask for help, but I've never knowingly bailed on you when you needed me, Sam. With all the times I've lectured and worried before sending you in alone, when I knew I was going to be right outside if there's trouble, you really think I'd run off and let you do _that_ alone if I knew what was happening?" Sighing, G turned around again to stare out the windshield. "If that's the case, maybe you do need a better partner than me, one you actually trust."

"You left without so much of an explanation," Sam said, shaking his head. "If it was a mission, I'd understand. I accept there is a need to know policy and I could see why you wouldn't tell me, but you left and it was personal, and you never said a word to me. When I found out about Moe, the only thing I was told was you were _unavailable_ and I didn't question it because, of course, I assumed it had to be a mission. You would have _never_ left without giving me an explanation if it were anything but a mission. Except it wasn't, was it? And you trusted Hetty, but not me."

Sam took a deep breath. Months of holding back hadn't diminished the anger, the disappointment or the disillusionment. "Mace got me into OSP. I liked her; she was a field agent, one of us. She understood the mission, but she also understood what being an agent is all about. Hetty, she's a politician. I trust her to give us what we need for a mission; I trust her to protect us because we're assets; but I also know she'd give any of us up if it were for the greater good and, then, she'd threaten to quit. I don't work like that and, if it were just her, I would have left long ago. But I'm still here because of you, G, and you trusted a politician over your partner. That started a chain of events that led to Moe's death. He was alone in that hotel room. Did you know that? No one even tried to figure out what was going on or to get ears in the room. Do you think that would have happened if it were one of us? Of course not, because we're too valuable. Would you have made that mistake? No, because you are a lead agent and have worked in the field after the fall of the Berlin wall. And after I saw his body, she tells me the mission was a success. Do you know how close I was to killing her? You don't know any of that, because you were off doing your own thing without even bothering to tell me. Maybe I don't need a partner I trust; I need a partner that trusts me enough to tell me what's going on instead of going off the reservation and letting me pick up the slack."

G remained staring out the front window in silence as Sam's words sank in. He hadn't seen it the same way at all. He'd asked his boss for time off and provided her with the reason she needed to allow it. And, Sam...G hadn't thought a tin soldier anything to bother him with. It had always been his intention to tell him everything later. But, if he was honest with himself, he hadn't expected to find anything at all.

Finally, he sat up and turned the key in the ignition. He'd fucked up and driven Sam away himself without even realizing he was doing it. As he pulled back out into traffic, G quietly shut down. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He couldn't make up for the dead. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't until they were back on the freeway that he spoke again. "You're wrong about one thing. I can't say whether I would or wouldn't have made the same mistake as a lead agent. I'd like to think not, but I don't know. What I do know is, if I made that mistake, it wouldn't have been with your family. Maybe that doesn't make it better. Maybe it makes it worse. But, I wouldn't risk your family any more than I'd risk you."

He might suck as a partner, but family meant something. It was why he kept chasing the past.

"Yeah, Moe is sorry, too," he answered, curtly.

Sam watched the traffic go by. This was the reason he hadn't said anything because words, much like revenge, couldn't bring Moe back. "He was a boy," he hissed. "He wasn't trained and we left him alone to be tortured and killed. No back-up, no support. If you'd make that mistake, then you should retire. Is this how we're successful? Letting untrained people do our job? Putting their lives at risk, asking them to do things we should be doing? Every decision made was a mistake. My cover was blown in no time. Nate was there for months and didn't know Abdul had people on his payroll because Nate isn't trained either, no matter what either of them thinks, and the day he ends up dead, then she'll be sorry, but she doesn't care now when she could be doing something, like sending a real operative instead of Nate because the skills we have aren't developed in a few months."

There was another silence. "I've looked at openings within NCIS, but I doubt I'd be interested. Reactivating my commission is a possibility, although at my age, I don't know how long I'd be able to go into the field. I've looked at other agencies, the private sector; I was even contacted by a foreign agency, Mossad. They'd love to have a Muslim operative in their midst, or maybe David wants to screw for Vance for taking Ziva from them. I don't know; I let them play their games. I haven't decided anything. LA, this team has been my home for five years and you know what a team means to me, but I just don't know if I can work like this. When I know, you will know."

G didn't say anything more for a long time. What was there to say? Sam was going to blame him and G was more than capable of taking that blame. And nothing could bring back Moe, which seemed the only way anything was ever going to be right between them again. It was just a darkly beautiful irony that this was how G realized what he stood to lose himself.

"You say you haven't decided. But, you have." He kept his eyes glued to the hood of the car when he stopped to let Sam off at home. "You may not have decided where, but you've decided to go. I can't stop you and I can't bring Moe back, no matter how sorry I am or how much of the blame I take for it. For what it's worth, I hope you find the partner you're looking for, Sam. Maybe someday, you'll be able to forgive me." And, maybe, by then, G would be able to forget Sam.

But, he doubted it.

"There you go again. I'm not you, G. When I tell you something, I mean it. I haven't decided. That's what I said and that's what I mean. I'm not you and I'm not Hetty. I might not share, but I don't lie. I'm not making this decision until I can make it objectively," Sam said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm angry. At you, at Hetty, at myself for letting it happen. Mostly at myself. I should have known- I can't make this decision while I'm this angry. When I calm down, then I'll decide." He got out of the car, and went to the back to grab his duffel, before walking to the front door again and he leaned against the Mercedes. "There's plenty of blame to go around. I need to make peace with myself before I can forgive anyone else." He banged the top of the car, trying to find something more to say and then gave up. "I'll pick you up in the morning."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, Sam."

* * *

The next week was uneventful. Both Sam and G juggled their many long term covers. Usually, this was the least favorite part of the job for Sam. He was out, alone, creating a cover which might or might not be used. There was no partner in most cases, no banter, nothing to relieve the monotony of the fake jobs. This time, it was different. The covers gave both him and G some space and it was the best that could happen to them.

He hadn't been lying. He needed to make a choice, but he couldn't decide anything until he found a way to deal with Moe's death and the many mistakes that had caused it. The time alone was helping, or maybe it was time that alleviated the pain. He was also finding his way to the mosque more and the second prayer rug found its way from his closet to his locker, and when work wasn't interfering, Sam was making a point to stop for his prayers.

He had just finished the noon prayer, when he stood up and folded his _sajjāa_. Sam put his shoes back on, stored the _sajjāa_ and his beads and finally turned. "Did you need anything, Hetty?"

Hetty stood just behind Sam as he put the prayer rug away. There were things neither of her best agents would ever understand, things she prayed they would never know -- for their own sakes in addition to national security. But, there were also some things she knew and saw that she hoped they'd figure out before she had to stop pretending to be too blind to see what was right in front of their faces, which would ruin everything.

But, now it looked to her as if everything was about to be ruined anyway, perhaps precipitated by her own actions. She couldn't do or say what she knew would be expected of her to make things right. No matter what they believed of her, Hetty didn't enjoy outright lying to her agents, especially these two. And, she did what she felt was necessary without allowing room for regrets that would cripple her ability to continue to do her job. Sometimes it went horribly wrong. Yet, it was what it was. Hers was not a position that allowed her to show the things others wanted her to show.

"It's been a long time since you've so openly practiced your faith, Sam. It's good to see." She had to express those things in other, less direct ways and eat the consequences that came with all of it. "I've noticed signs in Mr. Callen that usually preclude a bout of lone wolf syndrome. But, as far as I know, he is not assigned to a case that warrants such a reaction. If he were to tell anyone what has upset him, it would be you. I realize you won't break his confidence unless it endangers his life not to, but can you at least tell me if you know what troubles him?"

"There's no trouble. We've been busy with our own cases." He had been busy trying to have cases that didn't include G or the team. He needed the peace and quiet just as much as he needed a punching bag. "If there's a problem, then he hasn't talked to me."

"I see." Hetty sighed. "Then, perhaps he is merely busy, as you suggest. It is refreshing to have all the proper reports in on time without so much as a comma out of place; however, being those reports are Mr. Callen's, you can see where I might worry something is off. But, if he hasn't spoken to you about anything, I'm likely worrying for nothing."

"It's been a quiet week. I've had time to pray and he's probably catching up on his paperwork," he said. Sam didn't need to be an expert in diplomacy to know what she was trying to do, but she was wasting her breath. He had no intention of talking to G about this because nothing they could say would make things better, not at the moment when he still didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. "If you're worried, you should talk to him," he suggested with a smile.

"I would, but he's much more adept at avoiding me than you are." Hetty returned the smile. "You'll notice, when you get back to the bullpen, he seems to have disappeared, again. He'll return within five minutes of my return to my own desk. As I have several things to do at my desk, I suggest, if you're still intent on avoiding him as well, you find your excuse to do so now."

She turned to go, thought better of it, and turned back to him. "Teams are built upon their direct leaders, Sam. Not their commanding officers. When there's a breakdown in the leadership, for whatever reason, the entire team suffers. Mr. Callen may be the lead agent, but his team has two leaders. If he doesn't talk to me, the team will survive."

"I'm not avoiding him and we aren't the ones who keep secrets from the team," he told her as she walked away. She could take that any way she wanted.

* * *

A week of working on their covers and avoiding each other as much as possible without letting on to anyone at work there wasn't anything wrong had convinced G he couldn't do this, just sit and wait patiently for Sam to decide to leave. No matter what Sam said, G couldn't believe there was any other outcome. He wished desperately he knew how to fix things enough to at least make Sam stay, though he didn't hope for the man remaining his partner after how badly G had failed him. But, he couldn't believe it would happen.

For most of his life, G had been able to let go and let people go. It was easier to protect himself that way. Recognize the signs and leave them before they leave you. If you can't, don't fight when they want to leave. He'd done it so often, it was an almost uncontrollable instinct and one that was kicking in the longer he had to think about Sam leaving. The twist of irony came in the fact Sam was the one who'd been teaching him how to hang on and G found he didn't want to let go this time. But, that instinct was so strong. And, a deeper part, the part that just wanted Sam to find the peace he needed, knew pushing himself and their friendship on Sam was a selfish instinct on G's part because _he_ was hurting, not because Sam needed him to do it.

Basically, instinct, friendship, and love were at odds in directing him and he was in danger of fucking things up even worse if he couldn't find a way to do what was best for Sam without tearing himself apart in the process.

And that was why he was sitting in his car outside Sam's house at ten o'clock on Saturday morning.

If he were a religious man, he'd pray for inspiration in doing what he was about to do, opening himself up the way he was about to in order to, not fix things, but help them move forward. But, G Callen had given up faith in God right along with his faith in people and his childish belief in knights and dragons. He only had room for faith in himself and his partner -- and his faith in himself was running pretty low these days.

Taking a deep breath, he finally got out and made his way up to the door, where he knocked instead of using the key in his pocket. Sam might not even be home, in which case, G had an encrypted email ready to send instead. But, life wasn't worth living if you didn't take a chance, right?

Sam wasn't expecting anyone. It was still relatively early, but he up and dressed. He was supposed to pick up the children and spend time with them, but at the last moment, their plans had changed. His daughter had talked about a birthday party. There was also a make up lesson for surfing and then pizza with friends. He would have tried to find a way around all their plans, but with the mood he was in lately, it was probably best if his children enjoyed themselves without him. That left him all ready to go out, but with no place to go to.

At the knock, he checked to see who it was, before opening the door. "Did something happen?" Why else would G be here on a Saturday morning? "I'll grab my bag. I just need a moment to call and let the kids know they might not sleep over tonight."

Well, that put a kink in the plan right there. G should have known Sam would have plans with the kids. And how pathetic did it make G that he was slightly jealous of them at the moment?

"No, nothing happened." Shaking his head, he forced himself not to panic and just push through with things as best he could. It was what they did, right? Their ability to think on their feet and go with the changes in an op were what made them so good at what they did. "May I come in? I have something to say and I'd rather not do this on the porch. But, I will if I have to. After I'm done, I'll leave you alone to keep your plans with the kids."

Sam opened the door wider and moved away from where he was standing. "Don't worry. They've already ditched me. They may or may not sleep over depending on what happens with their friends. They are getting too old to spend time with their father. Close the door and I'll grab us something to drink... actually, follow me. You probably had coffee for breakfast. There's food if you want."

Any other time, G might have vocalized his curiosity as to at what age one no longer needed to spend time with their parents. But, he wasn't sure Sam would care these days. So, he just closed the door and followed as instructed. "There was milk in the coffee. It'll do for now. But, thanks.

"Look, Sam, I don't want to push things. I get that you don't really want to be around me right now and it's fine. But, I can't do this. I can't go to work and pretend like I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop and you to leave." He hadn't really planned out what he was going to say in so many words, not even an outline. He just knew he wasn't going to get anywhere without that honesty thing Sam was so fond of that tended to give G hives when it came to what he was feeling. "The thing is, I'm pretty spectacularly talented at pushing people away before they can hurt me. And, while I know I've no right to be the hurt party, here, waiting for you to decide whether or not you're staying hurts. Strangely, as much as I have no hope you'll decide to stay, you've taught me enough to not rule out the possibility. The problem is I can feel myself trying to push you away before I can be hurt by your leaving and if I let myself do that, and then you stay, I don't know I'll be able to stop no matter how much I try.

"So, I'm taking some time off. A real vacation this time. Hetty might have passed out from shock. But, I figure, if the reason there's this distance between us is because I'm physically gone, I won't be mentally trying to prepare for the day you're not here anymore. Maybe it won't be enough time to do either of us any good. But, at least I won't be destroying what's left of our friendship before there's a reason to give it up. I'm going up north for ten days. There's a small beach an hour or so north of San Luis Obispo that allows camping. Might even surf." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "Anyway, this is the number for the burn phone I'm taking with me. If I'm needed, I'll come back.

"Unless I should give this to Kensi because there's a chance you might come with me? Maybe getting away from L.A. and the office will help you, too." G rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. "I know, it's not putting the space between us I just said I needed. But..." he shrugged, out of his depth and hating it because he was trying to do this alone, the one who usually helped him with these things being the one he was having problems with in this case.

There had been some comments about milk and healthy breakfast, but they died out as G continued to talk, leaving Sam utterly confused about what was happening here. The only thing that seemed clear was the phone number.

"Did you take something?" he asked, because at this point, it was a possibility, maybe for a cover. Stranger things had happened. "I hope you have, because you're making no sense. For the record, since everyone seems to be under the wrong impression, I'm not trying to avoid you. I'm doing my job and that job has put us in different places for a week. That's all. If you're avoiding me-" Sam shrugged. "There's not much I can do about that."

Sam had no idea how to deal with the rest. "When are you going?" That seemed like a safe question and any answered would be an objective fact.

"Pretty much as soon as I walk out your front door."

"And you want me to go with you?" He wasn't sure if he laugh or bang his head against the wall. He might go for option c and bang G's head against the wall. "I can't, G, and it's not just because of work. I got kids. I can't just leave, they might be here tonight, and my vacation time- Well, I've made plans to take them sailing. Sorry." He pocketed the number. "But I'll call you if something happens."

"Yeah," G said on a sigh. "I figured. Don't worry about it. I'll see you in ten days, I guess." He had a wild urge to close the distance between them and really leave Sam with something to think about while G was gone. But, that was one decision he'd come to easily -- Sam couldn't ever know how G really felt. And, even if G was inclined to tell him, telling him before Sam figured out what he wanted to do was ten steps over the line into emotional blackmail G had no interest in taking. "Try not to blow up the world while I'm gone," he added with a smirk.

* * *

If the previous week, he had worked alone. This week included even more solitude. Gone were the drives together, the few (albeit tense) words exchanged every morning and every night. In his head, he could hear his daughter say he'd turned into a girl, missing the talking. She was saying it while giggling, too, just to annoy Sam more, not that he could blame her since at the moment she was just a figment of his imagination. She was also a wake up call.

He needed to make a choice.

Coming to that conclusion wasn't as difficult as reaching a conclusion. There was mail to deliver, high schools to clean, mosques to infiltrate; undercover work was so glamorous at times. During all of it, Sam kept thinking about what he wanted to do: stay or go.

Thursday night, he worked undercover at the high school, because nowadays schools didn't have to worry just about gangs, but about terrorist recruiters. By the time he went home, he still hadn't made a decision and G was coming back on Monday.

Friday, he was off because of the overtime at the school. He decided there was one person who could help with his decision. He packed his car and drove North, the five hour drive giving him more time to think. When he got there, it was almost dusk. Finding the beach wasn't difficult, finding G even less. It was early in the season and it had been cold for California; no one else was around.

"Had enough of being alone?" he asked with a smirk, although G did just fine with solitude. It was weird because G was the one who talked and yet he liked being alone. Sam used his words parsimoniously, but liked the company. Maybe G spent too much energy trying to talk to appreciate the company. "Kids have a school trip this weekend," he said, putting down his backpack and sleeping bag. "You'd better have room in that tent after making me drive up all the way here."

"If I manage to live long enough to retire," G drawled from the comfort of his beach chair without opening his eyes. He didn't need to open them to know it was Sam approaching. The other man's presence was too familiar. "I've decided to I'm buying a cabin at the top of a cliff that looks out over the ocean, one that has it's own access to a private beach below."

Being up here had helped G put a number of things into perspective. He'd spent the days down on the beach doing something he hadn't done in forever: relaxing. There were really only a couple places he ever relaxed. The beach was one of them. The other place was Sam's and he'd spent part of his time up there thinking about that.

Okay, he'd spent a lot of his time up there thinking about that, about Sam.

It was well before the season. No one was on the beach during the day. Fewer people still were in the camping area that overlooked it from the top of a small rise well back from the water. G practically had the place to himself. He spent the days down on the sand or in the water and, as soon as the sun was in his line of sight in the afternoon, he brought his chair back up here to the camp to get settled in by the firepit. It was a shame there were so few beaches in the state that allowed the fires anymore. Several years in a row of brushfires decimating large portions of the state had seen an increase in fire safety measures at all the parks.

But, there were a few places that still allowed them, like this one, and G had spent his evenings reading by the campfire in much the same way Sam found him now with the book splayed open across his stomach while he sat there and thought.

"If he's lucky, I might even give my best friend the address and a key. You know, for emergencies?" Opening his eyes, finally, he looked up and grinned. "There's room if we like each other a little. Here," he said, tossing Sam his car keys. "You can toss your things in the trunk with mine." G only had a tent big enough for two to sleep, not store anything. He'd been keeping his bags in the trunk of the car, which was parked right next to his assigned camping zone and much more secure than a tent in any case. "There's an extra chair in there, too, if you want it."

Sam dropped the sleeping bag and caught the keys. "Is there food in this cabin of yours? Or is your partner supposed to bring you sustenance?" He put the fast food bag on top of G's book, smiling back. "I'll get the extra chair, you get the extra beer because I know you didn't forget that."

He picked up the sleeping bag again and put everything in the trunk of the car. He came back with the chair and put it near G's. He sat down and stared at the ocean. He could see why G had picked this place and it was clear it had helped G relax. Sam felt a stab of guilt for barging in and disrupting his sense of peace. "I never seriously considered retirement before. Not sure it'd work out. Kids are expensive and a federal salary isn't nearly enough even with hazard pay. That and I'd be bored out of my mind after the novelty passed."

"You'll notice I said if I live long enough to retire," G replied, chuckling. There was a small cooler at the side of his chair. Taking out a bottle he passed it to Sam before pulling out one for himself. "First, I'd have to either get tired of doing what we do and quit, or actually find a sense of self-preservation. Much more likely, I go out as I like to go in. Guns blazing. As long as I take them out with me, I'll be good."

Reaching into the bag Sam had brought, he found manna from drive-through heaven and immediately pulled three fries out for himself. "On the other hand, my arteries might just harden and take me out the boring way."

It hadn't escaped his notice that Sam had changed 'best friend' to 'partner' in his rejoinder. And G was more than a little curious what had brought the other man all the way up here after all. He had left the house expecting to come back to a happier Sam who'd figured out he didn't need NCIS or G and was ready to move on. But, he wasn't going to push. That was what had exacerbated all of this in the first place. First when Sam was injured and G was hovering, then when G had found out Sam was looking for a new job, he'd been pushing, trying to make himself feel better by helping Sam or fixing things.

He'd forgotten the reason they worked so well together. They didn't push. They left the door open for the other to make the choice to talk, but they rarely pushed. So, that was the decision G had made while he watched the white caps and looked for his own peace. If Sam was going to come to him, he would. It was a leap of faith G wasn't good at making, but he needed to make it if he had any hope of salvaging their friendship.

"You give Kens the number or are they out of luck for the weekend? Because if you brought your work cell, it's going into the water."

Sam opened the beer and took swig, while listening to G talk. When his partner was done, he put the beer on top of the closed cooler and reached for the bag with the food. This was as unhealthy as it could get and it wasn't something the he would pick for himself, but he knew how much G liked those burgers from In-N-Out and it was dinner.

"I have my cell. Kensi has the number, my ex has the number, my kids have the number. You touch the cell and you end up in the water," he said calmly. "Relax; no one will call unless it's an emergency. I don't think Hetty is stupid enough to call me unless something major is happening and she doesn't know I'm with you, or even out of town."

He unfolded the wrapper and murmured, ' _Bismillah ar-Rahman, ar-Raheem_ ,' before taking a bite from the burger. His eyes stayed on the water, thinking. "What if you're pushed into a promotion? Then you're off the field. Would you retire then?" Sam wasn't sure why he was even asking. He would never go for the promotion. In fact, at this point, he wasn't sure if he should be in the field at all, let alone being in a position where he should tell people what to do.

G snorted while unwrapping the Double-Double Sam had brought him and trying to keep his mind from putting any of the little things together and jumping to conclusions. _Leap of Faith_ , he kept repeating in his head. "It's Hetty. She knows somehow. She probably even knows what beach I'm on despite the fact you were the only one I told where I was going."

Instead of digging into the burger, though, he picked at the bun, thinking about Sam's question. "Don't know if you know, but after Dom, Hetty almost resigned. Actually, she did resign. She turned in her letter to Vance while he was out here. And, before he left, he asked me if I wanted to be considered for the job. Of course, I was picking his pocket at the time and removing Hetty's letter because I was trying to talk her out of resigning. But, the answer I gave him was the truth -- I'm not interested. I like where I am, what I'm doing. I'm a field agent. It's where I belong, where I can do something that means something. They might try to push me into a promotion, but it'll just push me out of the agency and into something else where I can keep doing what we do."

Desk jobs were for people with a life outside the job. G's life was making sure the people with the desk jobs and real lives got to enjoy them.

"She's not Allah. She doesn't know as much as you think. She likes to pretend she does, and you let her psych you out." It would have been a lot more funny if the situation wasn't as tense as it was at the moment. "Our job is to lie. Do it while you're convinced you'll be successful and you will be. She's also too set in her ways. She likes to see what she wants to see at times." Sam took another swig of the beer. "Maybe she should retire, G. She's old school and things don't always translate. Hell, maybe we should all retire. I can't even protect those close to me. Why am I even doing this anymore?"

G knew they had different relationships with their Operations Manager. He thought, sometimes, he saw more of her than she let the others see. Maybe it was because in a lot of ways, he was the one who was most like her. They weren't the same, but they shared a number of traits and behaviors. They understood each other on a level G was hard put to describe.

It wasn't a level Sam would ever share and it wasn't G's place to fix things between them.

"Maybe. She seems tired lately, tired in the spirit." He shrugged and took a pull from his own beer, fortifying himself for the raw honesty this conversation was encouraging from him. "But, there's more to the job than lies. Remember how you told me partners need to seek that higher purpose or 'we're just a couple of guys with guns drifting from case to case'? This job is like that, too. If you pick it apart and break it down into it's components, we're nothing but liars, thieves, and murderers. We need that higher purpose, the reason to keep doing the job even when it sucks and causes pain and nothing looks like it was worth any of it. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes the price is too high and we're not superheroes, no matter how much we talk like it. But, if either of us were in it for ourselves, we'd have become mercenaries like Marchetti's guys."

Sighing, he turned to look at his partner. "I know what it feels like, you know, feeling like you failed someone you cared about, failed so badly they paid that too high price. I live in her house, with her ghost, and remember every day my lack of trust in nearly anyone is the reason one of the few bright spots in my childhood is dead. I failed Alina. I've failed a lot of people, failed you and Moe. But, I can't help thinking retirement would be like giving up, failing again because I haven't learned anything, dishonoring her memory by walking away from the fight and letting someone else pay the price. I keep doing it because the times we get it right mean someone else gets some peace in their life. It's enough for me. You have to find what's enough for you, where the line is that balances the good we can do against all the crap that comes with the territory."

"You're right; we do it because we can make a difference. But, when we're doing more harm than good, then are we working for a higher purpose or to soothe our egos?" Sam asked. "Walking away might save the next Alina, or the next Dom, or the next Moe."

He sighed. "So how is it we seem to save the people we don't know and kill the ones we care about? Maybe we're doing it wrong, maybe Hetty takes over and she gets it wrong, or maybe we let her take over. I don't know. I just know our success rate when it comes to people we care about sucks and that can't be destiny or fate. That means there's something wrong with us. We're not doing what we're supposed to. Even with Kensi, it was Deeks that got there to save her, not us. She would have been gone without his help and he had two bullet holes in him. What does it say about the way we operate? How we run operations? I keep thinking about it, keep looking for alternatives, and I don't know, G. I really don't know. I know what makes sense, go private, work a few years, make more money than I could make in a lifetime, collect my Navy pension, keep the military benefits for the kids, and when I have enough for them to live comfortably, then retire for good. It's a smart plan, but I don't know if I can walk out on you, on Kensi... even Deeks," he said, rolling his eyes. "The team is what's keeping me there, but I don't know if the team works anymore or if it's enough to fight the political bullshit."

"Deeks is her partner. He's the one who's supposed to save her. If anything, the only thing we did wrong that time was to check all of our egos and make the logical assumption the man with two bullet holes in him was the intended target." G smirked a little. "Well, maybe you could have taken a little more time off for that fractured rib of yours."

Setting his beer down, along with his food, he stretched out in the chair to stare at the sky full of all the stars you forgot about when you lived in the city with it's thousands of streetlights and flashing signs. He tucked his hands behind his head. Nights like this, G could almost understand why someone would start to believe in something bigger out there, more divine. "Isn't there something about a team is only as good as it's leaders? I've been a pretty crappy lead, you know. I don't have that team instinct. I'd rather go it alone than risk any of you. I act without considering that I could ask for help or talk to someone _before_ acting. It took thinking I was seeing you die out there in the desert to realize you've been right all along and we're stronger together as partners than I could ever be on my own.

"You're our compass, Sam. Why do you think Deeks works harder to earn your approval? You're the one who reminds us we need each other, that we're people as well as agents. You're the one who sees how badly fucked up we are and still cares so much you've spent weeks trying to figure out if you can walk away even though we, _I_ , cost you something we can never replace. Maybe that's why things have been so hard, lately? We all look to you to know how to behave as a team. But this time, you were the one who needed us and we don't know what we're doing.

"You have to make your own choice on this one and it's probably not fair to say this, but this team would fall apart without you, Sam. We need you, maybe more than you need us."

Silence reigned between them, interrupted by the sounds of nature: a cricket here, a bird there. For a while, Sam was happy to let nature do the talking for them.

"Deeks was practically crawling," he said with a snort, "but that's not the point, G. The point is we're becoming complacent, taking too many risks with other people's lives. We rush, we take shortcuts, and people die. We are becoming as much part of the problem as the problem itself."

Sam sighed. "It's not your fault. It's everyone's fault. We're too familiar with each other, too comfortable in our roles. We act like we're invincible, which is fine, if you're following a plan. The problem is we don't plan. We're so damn cocky we wing it. Turn that hard drive on because you're so good you'll beat water and Dom dies as a result. Moe will be fine; Nate is there, but Moe dies. Something is going down; let's play along even though we have no clue it's about nuclear missiles, and we almost kill hundreds of thousands of people. We're not superheroes, but we sure act like we are and the people around us are the ones that pay the price."

He turned his head and stared at G. "Last few weeks, I've come to the opposite conclusion. Maybe we've been at this for too long; we know each other too well. Maybe shaking the team up is exactly what's needed. New partners, new dynamics, learning to be a team again and be more careful in the process, take the time to step back and formulate plans before going in, and save lives as a result."

G wasn't sure what to make of that and he stared up at the sky hoping maybe the answer was up there somewhere. "Sometimes you get a month to plan them, sometimes a day," he said softly, repeating something he'd told Gibbs awhile back. "I'm not making excuses...or, maybe I am...but, we don't always get the time to make those plans. What would you have done differently with Marchetti?" That seemed the least volatile, personally, of the examples Sam had given, and the one G had most direct control over himself. "We were never going to know about the nuke until it was too late. DoE wasn't giving out that information. We set up the job to keep Greer or one of the other Taxi Service riders from being the next body on the pile for refusing the job. What else could we do? We didn't have a name, we barely had a description. There was no one to bug, unless we sent an already wounded Greer into a meet that would only have accomplished exactly what we did ourselves, provided Marchetti didn't finish the job. What we had was timetable we weren't aware of and one way in to find out what was really going on."

"We had nothing, G. Six months and we had no proof of any leaks. We had a dead ex cop and a bunch of corrupt cops with no evidence of any connection to Camp Pendleton or terrorism. There wasn't even a legal reason for us to keep the case and we should have let LAPD handle it, but we kept it because we know better," Sam said. "It might have worked out in the end this time, but that doesn't change the fact we're making decisions without thinking."

Sitting up and turning in the chair to better look at Sam, G shook his head. "We had more than that. We had an MP with reason to suspect Marines were working with Beane's crew. We had a dirty ex-cop who was the victim of a professional hit after he turned down a job he thought was going to far. And we had our gut feeling whatever was going down was going down soon. We were thinking, Sam. The thinking just wasn't linear.

"We could have turned Beane's murder over to LAPD. And it would still be sitting in a pile on some overworked, underbudgeted homicide detective's desk like the other hundred or so unsolved homicides in this town each year, probably one laid off the day before the murder. How much of a priority do you think they put on finding the killer of one dirty cop? What are the chances anyone in LAPD has the bandwidth to consider the other angles? Look how quick they were to turn over the investigation into Deeks' shooting and he's a _good_ cop. I get what you're saying. And there are times, yes, we take risks we shouldn't. But, sometimes we have to take the risk, trust our gut, and go for it."

"Sometimes. The problem is we always go for it, G," Sam answered, "and people die. Moe died. Months in that prison, months with Nate there and he couldn't even figure out Abdul had guards on his payroll and then we have to do an op in twenty-four hours, forty-eight if we're lucky. Don't tell me there's nothing wrong with that."

"You know I'm not going to tell you that, I won't deny there have been times when we could have taken more time to plan and didn't. But, again, that's leadership, not the team. I'm the one who makes those calls. It should have been me making the calls with Moe, but I wasn't there." Biting back another sigh, he leaned back in the chair again. "Breaking up the team won't change those things. They follow me. And I need to learn some of these lessons more than they do." He needed his partner there to help him. For the first time, there was something G didn't think he could do on his own.

"It's not just you, though. It's all of us. It's Hetty. It's our inability to say no to you or her, and that's not the result of the job, but of familiarity and friendship, except-" He stopped. "I don't think it goes both ways, and-" Sam stopped, sighing. And he didn't know what there was to say. G and Hetty worked on a different level and he let them, because he considered G a friend and because G considered Hetty a friend. And, others had paid the price for his decisions.

"Why are you here?" G asked, giving in to the urge after another short silence. "Why did you come up here, Sam?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I thought it might be easier to make a decision with you around, that I could find some answers, instead of playing the what-if game in my head. I joined OSP because I wanted to do good, make a difference at home and not just on foreign territory. But I'm staying because of my partner and I don't know if that's a good enough reason when we're harming the people we care in the process."

"It's not." A more difficult two words G had never spoken. "It's not a good enough reason when staying makes you doubt yourself, the good you do. No partner is worth that and I'd be an even worse partner than I already am if I let you do that. Don't think I'm telling you to leave. I'm not. If we can find a way to make the work rewarding for you again, then I want you to stay. But, I won't be the reason you're miserable or ashamed of the work you do. You're a better man than that."

Sam laughed mirthlessly. "That simple? I wish it were, G. But a team, a partner, those things mean something, too. If they didn't, the decision would have been made outside a hotel room with Moe's body still warm." His head lolled back and he stared at the sky. "Nothing I do is going to make up for the mistakes I made with him. Nothing. No revenge or justice will bring him back. No successful mission is ever going to justify what we - as a team - did. Maybe I came to find some peace. I should have stayed home and not ruined your vacation."

"You haven't ruined my vacation, Sam. I wanted to come with me at the start, remember?"

Of course, G had also wanted to not push Sam about this and he seemed to be doing a spectacularly bad job of that. Getting up, he moved to kneel at the side of Sam's chair. As it grew darker it was more difficult to see his partner's eyes and G wanted to make sure Sam was really hearing him. "I know a team means something. I've also learned a partner who holds you back or doesn't push you to be the better man isn't much of a partner. I'm telling you that you need to make the choice you can live with, if that's a new team, then it's a new team. But, if you can live with yourself and be, if not happy at least content, with the choice to stay, then I hope you stay. But, the peace you need, won't be found in our partnership, this team, a new team." He reached forward and placed his hand over Sam's heart, hovering without really touching the other man. "It's going to be found here when you're able to forgive yourself enough to go on living and trying to do the good you want to do."

Sam's eyes went to G's hand, before raising to meet G's gaze. "I know, but nothing I do helps. I've boxed until my knuckles bleed; I've prayed more than I have in ages; I've thought about it; I've debated with myself. But I keep going in circles. I can't forgive myself - or anyone else, for that matter, until I know we won't be making the same mistakes over and over, and it's not something I can fix alone because some of those mistakes weren't mine. Can we make it work, G? Because I can't go through this again. I can't watch people who shouldn't be in the field die because we picked the fastest way instead of thinking things through. I don't trust Hetty to put people before the mission. But I trust you to curb her and you can't do it if you aren't around. I need to know you're up to this."

G held Sam's gaze steadily, even as something inside him broke at seeing his usually strong partner so lost. He'd been wrong before. _This_ , kneeling here and having to keep his distance when his every instinct was telling him to touch and comfort, this was the hardest thing he had ever done. And, it was because he knew, somehow, at some unconscious level now was not the time for that sort of comfort, if there was ever going to be a time, that he managed to pull his hand back before he did touch.

"I know I wasn't here when you and Moe needed me to be. I've said it before and I know it doesn't change anything, but I am more sorry for that than you'll ever know. I can't promise it will absolutely never happen again that I'm not there when I should be and I might need to be reminded I don't need to go off on my own to do everything. But, I _want_ to be here to do my best to help fix this." He held up his hand in offer. "I can promise you that much, that I will do my best, whatever it takes, to make this right if you'll give me that chance. I might share a bit of the ruthlessness and I might make mistakes, but you know me, Sam. Not many can say that, but you can. You know my partner and my team will always come before the mission."

"Lots of adverbs there. I'm not asking for guarantees, not in our line of work, but I need you not to disappear on me because it's hard to remind you of something when I can't find you." Sam gripped G's hand and pulled him closer just as Sam leaned into his partner, and clapped G's back. "Told you I hadn't decided," he said as he pulled back, and then smirked. "Don't tell, Hetty, yet."

"Tell Hetty what?" G laughed, returning the smirk. "I don't know anything."

It was definitely time to put a little physical distance between them now the emotional distance was closed a little more. Although, G wouldn't be taking it for granted they were good this time. It was time he started watching out for his partner a little more than he had been. "I'll have you know," he added, standing up to brush the dirt from his knees before returning to his chair. "The only reason I'm letting you get away with that I told you so is because my Double-Double is getting cold."

"My Double-Double. I don't remember you paying for it," he answered with a smile. "You'd better have some food to go with the beer, or tomorrow we're driving to the closest grocery store and we buy what we need." He picked up the beer and took a sip before turning his attention to the food again. "How did you survive a week without me?"

* * *

The past few weeks had gone well. They had worked more contacts, saved Lt. Commander Chambers, avoided an international crises by keeping a scumbag politician alive. They had worked together and got the job done, but Sam could feel G's eyes on him more times than not. This wasn't the usual 'I need to protect my partner' stare. It was different. He supposed it was warranted considering he had talked about leaving.

The distant attention got even more intense after King killed Asher and then the explosion that made them think - if even for a short while - Kensi could be dead. Jokes about seducing their target stopped being funny until they found her alive.

The end of the mission couldn't come soon enough for Sam. If he had the choice, he would always go himself instead of sending one of the others, especially when they didn't have proper back up. Like Moe. Like Kensi. But she was alive, King was behind bars, and they could breathe easier.

"You okay?" he asked as he cornered her away from the bullpen to have some privacy.

Kensi stared at Sam for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

"There was nothing you could have done about Asher."

She sighed. "Does it make a difference, Sam?"

"Not one bit," he answered her honestly. "You watched a man die and there was nothing you could do. That will always suck, no matter who made the call, no matter the circumstances, no matter he was a thief."

"It sucks, all right," she agreed.

"But your partner is taking care of you?" he asked.

Kensi cracked a smile and nodded again. "Yeah... yeah, he is," she said, sounding surprised of admitting it.

"Good, because he'd have to deal with me otherwise. I'm glad you're okay."

Now, she smiled brightly. "He's too afraid to do anything to upset you, and... thank you, for-" She waved between them. "This. Thanks," she added, before hugging him quickly and stepping back just as quickly.

"No problem, Kens." He tapped her cheek. "Let's go pack it up. It's time to leave."

They barely made it to their desk before G arrived with a dinner offer. Most people would have refused since it was closer to breakfast by now, but neither G or Sam were normal and a steak sounded really good.

 

The scotch wasn't older than they were, but it was old enough to get the job done after the day they'd had. It wasn't too difficult to follow the rest of the rules G had set out for dinner, either. This time of night, not many places serving exotic fungi or eggs that came from something other than a chicken were still open. And, yet, it was Los Angeles, so there were still better places than Denny's or Bob's Big Boy open for business, which allowed Sam to get his porterhouse and G, as well. To go with the scotch he was barely touching.

The thought had crossed his mind, when the others' declined to join them, it was better this way, anyway. As much as the team meant to him, it was always easier for G when it was just him and Sam, the troubles from a few weeks ago notwithstanding. But, now it was just him and Sam in a nice restaurant and the insecurity attack from hell creeping up on him as G second guessed every decision he'd made on this case, wondering if there had been enough mistakes to change Sam's mind about staying. They could have lost Kensi and it very definitely would have been G's fault. He'd thought he was doing everything possible to keep her covered. But, maybe there was something he'd missed? Maybe they should have gone in sooner, when the cars had pulled up, instead of waiting until they lost her feed. There were a lot of maybes.

As far as G knew, no one else but Hetty even had a clue Sam had been so close to leaving. With the others there, it would have made it easier to focus his mind elsewhere. With just Sam, G couldn't help thinking about it more, waiting to see if Sam said anything.

"So, we're on the same page thinking Deeks is feeling a little more than partnery with his partner, right?" Possibly not the best idea for conversation either, considering G's own dilemna. But, teasing Deeks, even in absentia, was much better than brooding over mistakes or giving Sam a chance to tell him he'd decided to leave, after all.

"The fool doesn't know what he feels. He's not used to a partner and has this dangerous habit of getting involved with them." Sam snorted. "Kensi will shoot him if he tries anything. That will be fun to watch."

 _He's not the only one_ , G thought.

"I'm thinking she's more likely to go after him with the practice knives first," he said aloud. "Shock some sense into him." Now, if someone could just knock some sense into him, things would be all the better. Problem was, G wasn't Deeks. G knew exactly what he felt, exactly how different it was from the previous times he'd made the same mistake, which was why he had resolved this time not to give in to it. How fast would Sam be headed for a new job if he thought G was this stupid?

"I think he's more aware of what he feels than he wants us to believe, though. Deeks likes to play more clueless than he really is." G smirked. "He did manage to get his phone into your bag, after all."

" _He_ did not put his phone in my bag," Sam insisted. "I would have seen him, no matter what he says. No way he got that close to my bag without me spotting him."

He shook his head. "But, I don't think he does. I think he thinks he does. Deeks has spent too much time alone. He can fake friendship; he can have a few friends; but I'm not sure he knows what to do with a partner." He smirked at G. "That doesn't stop me from making fun of him."

G snorted. "Are you talking about Deeks or me?" Shrugging, he focused on his food a moment. "I don't know. I think you underestimate him." Glancing up from his plate, he flashed his partner a grin. "His phone _was_ in your bag."

"Are you trying to piss me off on purpose?" he asked without any anger in his voice. "He didn't put it there and when I find out what he did and how he exposed me, I'm going to have his ass." Sam wasn't really thinking too much about it, though. Deeks might be creative but he had shown that Sam himself was getting careless. No one would get near his bag anymore.

G hid another smirk by taking an extra big bite that required opening his mouth far wider than would allow the smirk to show. Maybe someday he'd be a good partner and share his knowledge. But, for now, he was keeping it to himself until the day it was needed.

Sam took a sip of the red wine, before sitting the glass down. "I don't underestimate him and he might even be growing on me. Like a fungus. He shares a lot of traits agents have. It's no wonder Hetty picked him. It's also not surprising you two share some characteristics, but you're much worse than he could ever be. Only I can put up with you."

"That might be because you're the only one who has really tried," G pointed out. "Why, the world will never understand. Do you remember the rampage the guy before you went on before he actually _quit_? If I recall, Mace's words when she told me she was making you my new partner were 'Maybe you won't be able to break this one'."

"Or the only one who's more stubborn than you are," he answered. "And the why is very simple. You're my partner," he said with a shrug. That should explain everything as far as Sam was concerned. He chuckled. "I don't break easily and certainly not because you're throwing your tantrums about working solo." He leaned closer. "And I got you trained by now." Sam clapped G's back. "It took time, but slowly I've shaped you into an agent instead of some solo operative going off to play James Bond. It took time, but we got there. Think about the possibilities. You'd have ended up like Deeks or Renko without me around."

"Me? Stubborn?" G asked, eyes wide to match his guileless expression. "And I am not a puppy. I won't be trained," he huffed. "Maybe I would have ended up like James Bond instead. I do make a tux look good. Besides, you should talk. Which one of us is keeping track of how many places they've worked that James Bond has also worked?" The little half-smirk G had almost patented for himself returned. "Admit it, Big Guy. You like the maverick loners. We keep your life from getting boring."

"I go in and shoot people, and not just where James Bond went. I don't go in with a tux," he said, making a face at the idea. He liked ops that required fancy clothes, as long as they stayed few and far between. "And you definitely would end up like Renko. James Bond and his brand of spying disappeared with the cold war." Sam chuckled. "Maverick loners? Are you going to quote me the lyrics of Here I Go Again next? Because if you are, I'm taking that steak to go."

"Except for those times when you do," G said with a chuckle. Sam made the tux look good, too. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Danger Zone' or maybe 'Great Balls of Fire'." There was no way G was keeping a straight face at that one and he didn't even try. "But, I'd never end up like Renko. The man has a different woman putting him up every time he's between assignments. Do you honestly see me crashing at some random person's house each night? In a random bed each night?"

"No, the man has a woman putting him up after being in town for two hours," Sam pointed out. "If you consider the time he needs to clean up, how does he find the time to find women and convince them to let him crash at their places. He must tell them he's some kind of producer; that would explain things," he said, almost thinking aloud. "There's no other way he could get so much tail. None. And you? Who knows? Maybe if you didn't have one specific person to bother with a very specific couch to crash on, you'd become like him. Really, I've saved you from turning into Renko, no matter what you say."

"Nah, I clean up better and I'm more charming. There wouldn't be a question of how if I wanted that much tail." Not that G was a monk. He was just paranoid and selective with a very bad habit of falling for his partner. Totally different. "But, I'll grant you that I have been saved from that fate by having a regular place to crash when necessary." He paused, smile sliding into an aren't-I-so-clever grin. "Remind me to thank your sofa the next time I'm there. I was horrible to it last time I stayed, tossing and turning all night, I probably hurt it's feelings and should make amends now that I know how much I should appreciate it."

"The toaster is the one you should apologize to," Sam answered without missing a beat. "Trying to see if you can turn it into a bomb at three in the morning is not an activity it likes." He stared at G for a moment, the silence familiar and comfortable after weeks of tension. "What about any tail? It'd do you good to go out, have someone, even if you can't tell her the truth, it still helps to have a lover, someone you can talk to about things not work related."

"What have I said about the separation between partner and mother?" The old, familiar feint came easily, but now, G reached for his scotch and allowed himself a healthy swallow. "What am I going to talk about that's not work related? The cover story life I pretend to live and that means nothing to me? What kind of relationship would that be? I can sit on a beach with my partner and tell him why I do what I do, what the work means to me. I couldn't do that with a lover I couldn't tell the truth. I'm married to the job. If I need to talk, Nate will tell me, I'm sure. And then I can avoid doing it by going to your place for a beer and to watch the game."

"You can have lovers who know, maybe not the details or the names, and certainly not at the beginning, but you can have lovers who know the truth in part," Sam said gently. "It's possible. I've done it. It doesn't happen often, and it takes time, but it can happen. The lies don't always have to stay in place, no matter what Hetty says. Sometimes, you take a chance and you trust the other person to understand why all the lies when you finally tell them the truth. Of course that works better when your partner doesn't scare possible girlfriends away," he said, chuckling. "You crashing on the couch is not really good for my social life. I can't even say you're my cousin."

"Lucky for your social life Hetty bought me a house of my own to crash at, then." G retorted. "Could have just told them I was adopted."

Sam laughed. "I'll use it the next time you crash at my place." It would happen sooner or later, and Sam didn't mind. The easy banter stopped when the waiter approached with their food, but as soon as he was gone, Sam pitched his voice in a falsetto. "And now eat, finish all your vegetables or you won't grow up."

The smile was easy on Sam's face. Things weren't perfect, they would never be in their business, but at least their partnership seemed on track again. They'd figure the rest day by day.

* * *

G had been reining in his anger over this since Nell had first called to ask him to give the young tech a pep talk before his first (and, yes, hopefully, last) undercover assignment. The decision was made and out of G's hands; they had a very short window of time. He just had to make sure they kept the young tech alive long enough to send him back to his computers -- and they almost didn't. But, now the case was over and pretty much everyone else had gone home for the night, he intended to have a few words with Hetty. "Nate, I got," he opened, leaning against the post in front of her desk, arms crossed, as though they were about to have a cozy fireside chat. "His background in Psych means he can read people; he knows how to talk to them and get information. More training in stealth and defense, he won't be a half-bad agent. And he wants it. Maybe a little too much. But, while it wouldn't have been my choice, I get it."

Hetty watched him, but didn't seem inclined to interrupt. She sipped at the tea she'd been pouring when G approached and set it down, waiting.

"But Eric?" He came forward to rest his hands on the back of the chair he usually sat in when they had more personal conversations. "He's a tech. He watches us work from a video screen. He hasn't the first clue how to do undercover work, what dangers to look out for around him, or how to defend himself."

"Mr. Beale was eminently qualified for the role he was asked to play."

"He might be qualified as a genius, but not as an agent playing a genius. Either Kensi or I could have easily taken that role and had both Eric and Nell feeding us the information we needed over the comms, giving us a trained agent in the field and the benefit of Eric's knowledge, as well." Hetty looked ready to speak up in her own defense again, but G cut her off, taking advantage of the relationship they did have to be more direct than the word games the two of them usually played. "Even with Eric involved, the entire thing could have been handled differently if I'd known before I was in the air he'd be out there with us. You just row the boat. I shoot the ducks. I get that. But, I can't protect my team from drowning if I don't know they're in the boat. We could have gone in as a joint task force, if we had to, to make sure there was someone with him from the moment he was on the ground. Not waiting for Sam and I to find him."

"The presence of you or Mr. Hanna right at his side would not have prevented the remote activation of the testing room, Mr. Callen."

"Maybe not, but it might have prevented an untrained tech dressed up like an agent from being _in_ it when it did. You did it to me again, Hetty. You sent my team into an op without my knowledge and this time you did it when I was right here. But, you waited to make the call until after I was out of the room."

"When it comes to your team, Mr. Callen, you do, indeed, still shoot the ducks." Hetty leaned back in her chair, one hand supporting her wait while the other gestured pointed. "However, the support staff in this office is not here to only serve your team. Your team had its assignment. Mr. Beale reports to me and was given his."

"And y-"

"No, you had your say, you will allow me mine." The look in her eyes quelled any further argument, though G was still visibly irritated, and she continued more calmly. "This is not the first time you have questioned me, it's not even the first or second this year. You do not trust me and I wonder if you truly trust your team to be able to do their job. Mr. Beale was the best for this job. It was unorthodox, but so was the situation and there was little time to consider other options."

"Fine." G said tightly. "But, you put him in the field, you put him under my responsibility. I'm the one out there to look after him, not you, and you let me go out there blind." Sighing, he ran his hand over his head. "My team is your team, too, Hetty. And you've been pulling away from us for months, making these calls, sending us out without all the information. You want me to trust you, but you make it hard by not trusting me, not trusting us. I don't mean just today, or what happened in that prison with Moe. Even further back. Back to the book and Cole. Deeks' disappearance. You used to be one of us, you kept your secrets, but you still worked with us. But, lately, it seems as if you'd rather we work for you."

"Mr. Callen-"

G shook his head. "Eric could have been killed, today, Hetty. Whether he's technically my team or not, he and Nell are as much a part of the unit as me or Sam or Kensi, Deeks...you. Eric is one of us and we almost lost him because you were more interested in keeping control than letting us work together to find a better way that would protect your assets." He stood, just looking at her for a moment. "I would have thought you, of all people, after everything this unit went through last year, would see the difference."

"It is unlike _you_ you be the one lecturing on duty to team, Callen." Hetty seemed subdued when she spoke and he wasn't sure if it meant she had washed her hands of the conversation, or was thinking about what he'd said.

Smiling, G shrugged. "I've been partnered with Sam for four years. It was bound to rub off sometime." He hesitated for a moment. There wasn't much more he could say. "Think about what I said, Hetty. I'll see you in the morning."

 

Sam waited at his desk, watching G talk to Hetty . As soon as he was done, they picked up their things and drove home. They were quiet in the black Mercedes. It had been a long day and they should get some sleep, but Sam knew better than to think G would sleep any time soon. "Do you want to come in?" he asked when G stopped in front of the house. "You can crash here if you like and the couch has to be more comfortable than your floor."

For the second time that night, G Callen hesitated. But, the day had been too long; there would be no driving to a beach to calm his mind that night and he felt comfortable at Sam's place. He'd made the decision not to crash at Sam's if he could help it. Still, going inside and crashing didn't have to be the same thing. "Yeah," he said at last, nodding. "For a while." He tried his hand at a teasing smile, shutting off the car and reaching for his bag just in case. "Not sure I'm up to scaring away your dates tonight."

"My big date with the TV. I'm not sure I can forgive you if you ruin it," Sam teased, as he opened the door. His eyes darted to all the little details that would tell him if anyone else had been here. He didn't expect trouble, but it was second nature. "You know where to set up." He sent to his room to put the duffel away and then picked up two beers, before going to the living room. Sam handed G one of the beers and sat down. "We need a new rule. You and I are the only ones allowed to go undercover, and you only when I'm there to cover your ass."

"Not agreeing to that corollary unless it goes both ways, Big Guy." G couldn't help thinking of Yemen, how nothing else had mattered once Hetty said Sam had been compromised, the sleepless night that had followed as he put together an extraction plan to get both Sam and the boy out of there alive. It was a miracle he hadn't crashed the car driving around looking for that futah Hetty wanted given he hadn't slept and had then thrown himself out of a moving vehicle, not for the first time in his life. Sighing, he cracked open his beer and stretched his feet out in front of him, resting them on his own duffel and not Sam's coffee table. "The rest of that rule is fine with me."

"You think I have a problem with my partner watching my back?" Sam asked with a smirk. "Amended corollary accepted. Now that we have an oral agreement, we need to convince Hetty and we're done." It would never fly, but it was a nice idea, a safer idea, at least.

Taking a pull from the bottle, G turned his head to watch Sam in silence for a moment. "We good?" he asked at last.

Sam nodded. "We're good. Are you good?" he asked. "Things with Hetty seemed... tense?" He never got into the middle of their discussion because it wasn't his place, but he wanted to make sure G was all right. "We'll figure this out, G. We'll make it work."

"I'm fine." G shrugged. "Hetty and I...there have been some things that have needed to be said for several months, even before I made you that promise." He didn't feel he needed to specify which promise. He didn't make enough of those to lose track of them. Although, he was pretty sure most of the ones he was still keeping were made to Sam and he wasn't sure how or when that had happened. "You're not having second thoughts, yet?"

"G, I made a decision. As long as we're both trying, I'm not going to bail on you and I'm not bailing the first time something goes wrong." Sam sighed. "Things are bound to go wrong. Don't start to second guess yourself at every corner or you'll go crazy. As long as you remember we do things together, we'll be all right and, if you forget, I'll remind you." He drew circles on his jeans with the bottom of his bottle. "I'll make you a promise. If things get bad again, I'll talk to you before doing anything, even putting out feelers. You shouldn't have to hear it from anyone but me. I wasn't thinking straight and I'm sorry for that. I can see why you thought I didn't trust you, but that's never been the case."

"You don't have to apologize, Sam." G reached over and grasped his partner's shoulder. It was a balancing act between saying enough and saying too much. "My default is to think the worst and I couldn't figure out you weren't in a place to balance it out like you usually do. In a way, I needed the wake-up call. I've had other partners. I've even liked some of them. But, especially after Tracey, I've never had one I trusted so completely I could take it for granted he'd always be there. It hurt to think you couldn't tell me things were that bad. I figured out it was because you were hurting, eventually." Grinning, he let go and leaned back again. "Just remember you have to bring me sustenance in that retirement cabin by the beach or I'll starve."

"No, I have to, because it was wrong not to talk to you. That's my fault. You can take the blame for everything else," he said with a wink. "I get the food, you get the beer. It's perfect. I'll even be nice and bring the ammo since you're buying the cabin. One of us has to think about the important things in life, like guns and knives."

"Not that I mind," G replied, laughing, "but when did the emergency key I was going to give you so you can feed me turn into you moving in and bringing the artillery?" A long pull from his beer was necessary to stamp down on the confusing mix of pleasure and trepidation the idea stirred up. He shrugged again. "Mi casa es su casa. I'll just have to make sure there's a spot for your punching bag."

"You need to eat daily, don't you?" Sam answered, chuckling. "And some ammo is not the artillery. I don't think they let you keep the artillery when you retire, but we can always ask. No harm in that." He flashed G a smile. "Who else would visit you anyway? We've established I'm the only one willing to put up with you."

"So you keep telling me." G was too busy trying to keep down the unfamiliar sense of warmth stealing over him at the idea of Sam moving in to take care of him, of maybe taking care of each other, to come up with a better retort. And, Sam probably had no idea how much G really wouldn't mind. Damn it; how did he keep getting into these conversations with the one person it was most dangerous to have them with in the first place? "Please," he continued with a snort. "Between the two of us, we have enough contacts around the world to keep us well armed in whatever manner we see fit for the rest of our lives, government subsidized or not."

"I was talking about a few guns and bullets, now you're asking about using my contacts to keep you well armed. What's next? Are you going to expect that I make an honest man out of you?" Sam asked, with just the right tone of annoyance anyone forced into a marriage would have. "I don't know, man. You keep pushing. I need room to breathe."

Two decades of experience as one of the top undercover agents in the country and rarely breaking character under any surprise circumstance, four years of trading outrageous jokes and dares with one Sam Hanna, and G still was a hairsbreadth away from choking on his beer at hearing his partner pout over having to make an honest man of him. The problem was, G Callen had rarely ever backed down from a challenge, even in jest. He might be getting well in over his head with this line of joking, but he wouldn't be the first to give. "I don't know," he drawled, deliberately giving Sam an overly-exaggerated 'once over' with his eyes instead of the slow, meaningful one he was tempted to give. "If you're going to make an honest man out of me, I'd want to make sure we were _fully_ compatible, you know?"

Sam stretched his legs in front of him, sprawling on the couch as he looked up into nothing. "Oh, where should I even start with that one?" Neither one liked to back down from a challenge, verbal or not, and this was too easy to let it go. "You've seen me practically naked, being pinned down during defence, what they say about men with big feet." He turned his head to look at G and smirked. "My favorite: once you go black." He shook his head. "Baby, if there's anyone who's got to worry about that, it's me. Skinny white boy like you? I could be disappointed."

Even though G knew how deep his feelings for his partner ran, it was still something of a shock to realize those feelings came with such a strong physical component. But, as he'd barely drunk half his beer, yet -- and, it was only _beer_ \-- he knew the heat he felt was from thinking about just how many times he _had_ seen Sam practically naked, or been the one pinned beneath him on the mat. Yet, he knew there was no way Sam meant any of what he was saying. Regardless of his own very real attraction and the trouble he could get into, G still wouldn't be the first to cry uncle. And, more importantly, he couldn't _not_ play the game full out and up the stakes, for the simple reason that alone could clue Sam in to the facts.

Setting his bottle on the coffee table, G got up and stood in front of Sam, his legs straddling Sam's without touching them. Then, leaning forward, he placed his hands on the back of the couch, one to either side of Sam's head. "What kind of partner would I be," he asked, voice gone low and rough, deliberately for the _most_ part, as he stared into his partner's eyes, "if I wasn't confident I could have your back no matter how difficult the position we found ourselves in?"

They played verbal games all the time. It was the way to pass the time when things were slow or to break the tension when the world was going to hell in a hand basket. In neither occasion, it turned into this.

Sam blinked, wondering what was happening, but he was not going to be the one to back down. His hand rested on G's hip in deceptively loose hold just as he smirked. "A smarter man would know if you try to trap a SEAL, the only position you'll find yourself in is pressed against something unable to move, and that doesn't sound too nice, does it, partner?" He took another sip of the beer, careful not to touch G in any way other than the hand on the hip and then put the bottle down, staring at his partner again. "Or do you want me so bad you' re trying to piss me off on purpose so I'll put you on your knees."

There had been covers that had bled into reality, or where reality had bled into the cover, until G came out of the op confused and conflicted about everything for days after. Never had that line been so blurred as it was now, here, playing at seducing his partner when he would have liked nothing more than to really do it if he thought the man had even the slightest interest. The hand on his hip and the images Sam's words conjured in his head were playing havoc with his concentration. "If you have to get pissed off to appreciate a man willing to go to his knees for you," he murmured in Sam's ear, "you're playing the game wrong."

G put some distance between them again. But, he did it in such a way as to make it part of the game instead of a retreat, slipping back slowly until he almost slid down Sam's legs to kneel on the floor. Reaching for Sam's beer, he smirked before taking a slow pull from the bottle that had his head tipping back and his throat moving as he swallowed what was really no more than a small sip.

Playing seduction games with his partner was dangerous enough; actually stealing a SEAL's beer was suicidal!

How the game had began was a distant memory already. They became their cover, even when their covers were just a game. Things that would never be said if they were themselves were uttered easily, not even lies, because their alter egos believed them. That was what kept the game interesting, watching and waiting for the one who would blink first.

Sam wasn't blinking.

"Or maybe the game is a little different." He traced the bottle from bottom to G's lip. "Looks to me like someone's pissing me off on purpose. Making offers he won't see through, drinking my beer. Looks like someone's just asking for me to take control so he doesn't have to admit just how much he wants this. There are nicer way to do it if he just asked."

The hand he rested on Sam's thigh might have been there to tease the other man, but as G leaned in close, erasing the distance between them until he was practically speaking against Sam's lips, he knew it was holding him up and keeping him from actually pressing against his partner's muscled chest just as much. "Offer," he said softly. "Promise. Never make one I won't keep."

Standing swiftly, then, or as swiftly as he could while trying to disguise the state of arousal their game had left him in, G did something he almost couldn't believe he was doing himself.

He backed down before he lost control and actually kissed his partner, forever destroying the partnership and the friendship they'd worked so hard to get back on track. "But, not tonight. I've got a headache; it resembles the paperwork I didn't finish before we left. And, you actually like to sleep at night." Grinning, as if this was really nothing more than a game he'd grown tired of playing, he reached for his duffel. "I should probably head back to my place if you expect to get any of that sleep, too."

G blinked!

It should have ended there, because a few comments, no matter how racy and an almost kiss were nothing in the grand scheme of things. Leaving? That wasn't part of the game and had Sam worried.

He got up, the beers ignored now, and moved closer. "You didn't even finish your beer. What's going on, G?" With someone else, Sam might have worried they had been insulted or they felt pressured into something, but G was the one to push, the one to play games, and there was no way he felt pushed into anything, but there was still something wrong. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, leaving isn't going to help."

"There's nothing going on." G slung his bag on his shoulder and schooled his expression into something he hoped passed for normal. "I said I'd stay for awhile. But, it's been one of those days and I might need a drive tonight to get the image of Eric in that room out of my head. That's all. And, I doubt you want me coming back here that late -- or finishing that beer and driving."

They had been partners too long not to recognize the lie, but they also didn't push each other unless it was work and this wasn't. Sam hesitated for a moment, before stepping back. "We've barely got here, but if you need to go." He nodded toward the door. "Come back if you want. You can even use the key," he said with a tiny smile. "Or you can stay and no more games. We sit down, put the TV on, and we can relax."

Indecision wasn't something G was overly familiar with in his life. Indecision was what got you killed in the field and he'd learned to consider the angles quickly and act before hesitation cost him. But, there were moments, when lives weren't on the line, he had no damned clue what he should do. Logically, he should go, remove himself from the temptation he obviously was going to have trouble resisting. Still, selfishly, he truly enjoyed spending time with Sam, just sitting and watching a game or making stupid comments that meant nothing. No cover had ever been as exacting as trying to ignore these feelings or pretend they didn't exist.

"It's nearing the start of playoffs," he said finally, after staring at Sam's face for a long time. He put the duffel back down a faint smirk. "There'd better at least be highlights of some games."

* * *

Watching Deeks turn into Max Gentry proved just how well Hetty had known Deeks before offering him the liaison position. They knew the man was a good shot, but for the first time since that day at the gym, Sam believed Deeks would be able to hold his own out there.

That ability didn't come without a price.

The similarities between Max and Nicole and Jason and Kristin were obvious. Both G and Sam were paying close attention to Deeks, trying to make sure he was really okay, but Sam was paying attention to G as well to make sure his partner was coping. That led to a new revelation. G was watching him in return. Or maybe he'd been watching long before this case.

There was something different about this. G wasn't watching to make sure they were all right or they were safe. These were subtle gazes, lasting just seconds, but enough for their eyes to meet, leaving Sam with the nagging feeling he was missing something big, something that impacted their lives, something that meant something to G.

There was no time to figure it out. There were people after Ray and they needed to come up with a plan and then a plan B, and finally Ray was safe and sound on his way to a happier (and hopefully safer) life with his family, giving Sam a chance to really think about what it all meant, except that he was still coming up blank, leaving him with one option.

He didn't ask, but instead as G parked in front of the house, he grabbed the keys. "You're staying over for dinner." Food was the last thing he was thinking of as they got into the house. "When are you buying furniture? We might use your house once in a while," he said as he got out of the car.

"What the hell?" It took G until Sam was closing the car door to truly comprehend his partner had just absconded with his keys, effectively kidnapping him until G could get them back. For two months he'd been trying to keep things under control, keep himself under control with Sam. And all that had gotten him was two very sleepless nights spent sleeping practically on top of each other in a tent on the beach, a nice dinner spent dodging questions as to why he didn't want a woman in his life, and a near kiss that could have ruined everything. The very last thing G wanted tonight was to play undercover lover over a nice cozy dinner at Sam's after he'd spent the day watching Deeks play out scenes from G's past -- scenes that only served to remind G exactly why work and pleasure never mixed. Someone always ended up getting hurt.

G ended up hurting someone he genuinely cared for.

"Sam, come on." Ignoring the jab at his lack of, well, anything resembling possessions, G tried to catch his partner before he disappeared into the house with the keys. There was too much crawling just under his skin, especially after Hetty had stopped him from talking to Deeks, and it was too easy to talk to Sam, to be honest with him about what was in his head. It was bad enough Sam could read his moods when G wasn't trying to hide something. "Not up for being mothered tonight. Seriously."

"Who says I want to mother you?" Sam asked as he opened the door. "What? You have something important to do? A date? Oh wait, you don't date. Watch TV? You don't have a TV." He went straight for the bedroom to put down his bag, before coming back.

The door was still open, even if G at least had followed him. Sam closed the door. "I'm not going to mother you. I want to know what the hell is going on, G. I can see why you were watching Deeks. Nicole, Kristin, I'd have to be blind not to see the reason why you were worried. What I don't get is why were you watching me? Do we have a problem I don't know about? I thought we were done with these games. If I want to spend hours trying to figure out what someone's thinking, I'll talk to Hetty. She's like the Sphinx when she talks. I don't need that with you. Don't think I haven't noticed things are off, but I haven't said anything. You stop coming over, that's fine. We spend less time together after work, that's cool. But you were doing it at work. It's been since the last night you came over, with that little pretend game. Did I spook you? Did I say something I wasn't supposed to? What, G? What's going on?"

The easiest thing to do would be to come up with a lie Sam would believe and beat a hasty retreat.

But, instead, G was too dumbfounded by the time Sam got to the end of his speech to do anything but stare. "How- You-." Fuck. He hadn't stuttered since the tenth grade when his physique finally started to fill out and he stopped being the weird, orphan kid, becoming the charming, attractive orphan kid girls and guys actually wanted to talk to in the halls.

"Did you _spook_ me?" he finally managed to get out, latching on to the most unbelievable part of that entire line of questioning. "No, you didn't 'spook' me, Sam. I was very, very far from 'spooked'. Yes, I was not unaware of the parallels between Deeks' relationship with Nicole and my past exercise in stupidity with Kristin. And, this? _This_ is why I don't date. Because I do stupid, stupid things like getting involved with my mark's sister or believing a fake marriage was real. I only seem to fall for the people whom I absolutely should _not_ be falling for, like my big, clueless partner with his family and his religion and his reserve status and a million other reasons why he's the absolute worst person to fall for. Of course, I do anyway. But, at least I learn from my past mistakes and I'm not dumb enough to think I stand a chance in hell of getting what I want, which is fine. I can live with being in love with you from a distance and staying just your partner. Our friendship and partnership mean too much to me to throw them away repeating idiot mistakes I should have known better than to let happen again. And, that's why, when we start playing that game, I have to back down. Because I really wanted to kiss you that night. But, if I kiss you, it's not pretend; it's not a cover story; and it's definitely not a game."

Somehow, at some point during his own exhausted tirade, G had come forward enough to stand toe-to-toe with his partner and, despite the sudden drop of his heart into his stomach at what he'd just done, his eyes never left Sam's. "So, now that I've completely trashed the best friendship I've ever had and thrown our partnership into the toilet, _that_ , Sam, is what's going on."

"I see." Not the best answer to all of that, but G had just thrown at him so much and his brain seemed to have stopped at the falling in love part, the rest being white noise moving through a filter before reaching his brain so the words could make sense. "You haven't trashed our friendship and our partnership is just fine." That was the easy part, because Sam was loyal and he wasn't going to turn his back on G because-

"You fell for what? Clueless?" Sam asked with a frown. "How was I supposed to guess that? Don't you have rules about these things? Never date someone with her own handcuffs, right? When did her turn into him?" Maybe that should have come first, but with G things never went the way they were supposed to. Or maybe Sam was too confused to make any sense of this and doubted it would be getting better quickly. "You gotta give me a few seconds before you start talking about ruined friendship, okay?"

"Her turned into him sometime around the age of seventeen when the captain of the water polo team pulled me into the gym shower one afternoon to stick his tongue in my mouth and his hand in my pants," G replied with a shrug. And, he'd always been so starved for affection that being attracted to both genders had never seemed strange. Still, he couldn't help smirking just a little bit. It wasn't often he managed to throw Sam this much. "So, I bent the rules...again? Are you sure you're a highly trained agent?" he teased. "You had all the facts. You just had to connect the dots. It hasn't exactly been easy keeping this from you. You're the only person who seems to make honesty become my default when we're alone."

Sighing, G rubbed at the back of his neck and took a couple steps back to give the other man some breathing room. "Look, Sam, it's fine. I'm not looking for anything here. As long as I haven't lost your friendship, we can just pretend the rest doesn't exist. I'll come over more again when it's a little easier to be around you without feeling like a horny teenager. For tonight, you can just give me my keys back and I'll leave so you can...do whatever it is you need to in order to just put my temporary insanity behind us."

"Right, the dots, because it's every day my supposedly straight partner, who barely dates, refuses to go out with anyone in law enforcement and has more quirks than... how should I even know? I doubt there's anyone in the world with all of your quirks. Yeah, I can see with that background how the logical assumption to you being weird is that you want to kiss me." In some planet, that might even pass for logic, but not on earth, no matter what G wanted him to think.

"No, I'm not giving you the keys so you can run off. I mean if you had said you wanted to have sex... well, who could blame you?" He spread his arms. "Really, like anyone could resist me." He was trying to lighten the mood, but this was so not working and Sam gave up the pretence with a sigh. "You said you fell for me. How am I supposed to forget that? The person who means most in this world besides my children tells me he's in love with me and we just go on, pretend it never happened. I can't do that, G, because ignoring it would hurt you."

He reached for the keys and tossed them in G's direction. "You can leave if you want, but this isn't going away. You can't run from it, not unless you want to break up our partnership."

G caught the keys one-handed and looked down at them for a long moment. "I'm not running, Sam. I don't want to break up our partnership or loose the friendship we have. But, damn it, I need some space to deal with this, to get my head back into the game where it belongs and put these feelings back into whatever box they fell out of in the first place." He looked up again, shaking his head. "I'm not an idiot, despite what it sounds like. I know there's nowhere this can go. That doesn't make it any easier to share a tent for two nights or hear you say things like I'm 'the most important person in the world' and know you only mean it as far your loyalty to your partner, not the way I want you to mean it. The other night, joking around like that? Stopping was the hardest thing I've done in I don't know how long because it really wasn't a joke to me. Not at all. Only I couldn't tell you that because you're my partner and the one person on the planet I'm not supposed to feel this way about.

"So, I need to take a step back. I need to spend a little less time here, until I can be within ten feet of you and not want to touch..." He hadn't realized he was moving, and yet, he was close enough to reach out and cup Sam's cheek as he spoke. "Until I can fight the urge to just hold you and make impossible promises that everything will be alright the next time you sound as lost as you did that night on the beach. Your friendship means everything to me. But, I need to be able to _be_ your friend instead of acting like some lovesick puppy just because you smile at me. To stop myself from doing this." Leaning up the last of the short space between them, G gave up that particular fight and captured Sam's lips in the kiss he'd wanted and dreamed about since the night they'd played seduction games over beer. If G was going to be damned if he did and damned if he didn't, he was going to damn well do.

The kiss was almost tentative at first, but they weren't men to hesitate and when they did, not for long. Sam's fingers curled at the back of G's head, pulling him closer as their lips met with increasing hunger; Sam teased G's bottom lip with his teeth, pressing their bodies closer. It wasn't until his brain caught on with what he was doing that Sam pulled back slowly, staying so very close he could feel G's breath on his wet lips.

"I've never kissed a man. I've never thought about another man," he said with a rough voice. "You're not just another man; you're not just another partner either. I should have decked you, so many reasons for it, and not kissed you back, but-" He let go and stepped back while he took a deep breath. "I still need more than five minutes to wrap my head around this, okay? I"m not asking you to stay away, unless you want to, but don't go making decision without giving me some time to think here."

G's breathing wasn't easy, his mind still reeling from the reality of not just kissing Sam, but _not_ being punched for it. "It's okay. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry. But, you called it -- you're a hard man to resist, Sam Hanna." A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth for a moment before he gripped his keys tighter in his hand with a determined nod. "I'm not going anywhere. There isn't a decision for me to make. I don't expect anything. I know how I feel and, unless you tell me otherwise, I know this is where it ends. Whether it's as your partner, your friend, or the man who fell for his partner, I'm still going to be here to watch your back.

"But, for tonight, I think I should go home before I do something even more stupid." For the first time in his life, G wanted to stay and talk something through as long as it took to set things right. Only, he couldn't, not after that admission from Sam. And, certainly not while he could still feel every sense thrumming with energy in the aftermath of that kiss. He couldn't trust himself not to do something else and risk pushing Sam further away. "I'll pick you up in the morning?"

"What else could you do that's more stupid?" Sam asked, and then smiled. "Never mind, I'm sure you can come up with something. I know you too well." He shifted his weight, putting one hand in his jeans pocket and stared at his partner. "G... I've never... I don't do casual. I don't do men." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Do you know just how many Islamic rules I'd be breaking? No, and neither do I because I never thought about it. This-" He waved between them. "It's so insane. Same team, partners, lead agent. I'm straight; I have kids and an ex wife. Hetty will kill us if she finds out. Did I mention I don't do casual? If we got involved and it went wrong, it would blow up in our faces. There are so many reasons why this is insane."

He should end it here, G was making it easy. "You should leave, except... you're not leaving and I'm not asking you to." He stepped closer and kissed G again, a mere brush of lips. "I'm not asking for an apology either, just time to figure this out."

"Sam..." G swallowed hard. "I don't...I can't hope for anything. If I start to believe there's a chance and there isn't...I've already gone over all of those things in my head. I took a four hour drive in the middle of the workday and when that didn't work, I took an actual vacation to go camping on the beach and try to talk myself out of this insanity. But, apparently my feelings are more stubborn than I am. And, they're nothing like casual. You have time, as much as you need. Just don't... I've fucked up too many times to hope for the best instead of just preparing for the worst." Before he could make that promise of time useless by throwing himself at his partner, G swallowed again and moved away, turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning, Sam."

* * *

The next morning, they were back to normal, or pretending they were back to normal, at least until Nell walked in on them while they were training. And, while the woman might look like a little girl, her thoughts couldn't be hidden behind that sweet face. But it wasn't important now. There was a case for them.

They walked to the op center after changing clothes and Sam could see something in G's eyes. "If you're going to apologize for Nell or something else, I'm punching you." That earned him a snort before they were listening to Deeks making cracks about leg warmers and Sam was surprisingly all right with the crack made. Maybe what people would think of him if he were involved with a guy wasn't as important as figuring out if he was attracted to a guy, but there was no question he loved G. Whether he was _in_ love with G was so connected to sexuality Sam needed to deal with that part first.

Or at least as soon as they found a dirty bomb.

 

If finding out about a possible dirty bomb being sold in the black market sucked, the rest of the day wasn't any better for Sam. First Eric and his sardines. Second the plasma. Then Hetty and her speech about anchors. Now, that really pissed him off. Sam didn't like word games, and Hetty was hiding something. She knew something was about to happen, something that would affect G, and she wasn't sharing. No, Sam didn't like that one bit, but again there was hardly time to think, because he was going in as bait.

The look on G's face when he had vetoed the idea had stopped Sam's short. "It's the only way," he said, but the real discussion was done through their eyes. They couldn't send someone else; there was no time to try anything else; they shouldn't let personal feelings interfere. All of that was said in a few seconds and without words and, finally, G agreed.

The explosion should have been the worse of their day. Finding the bomb should have been the end of a mission requiring a celebratory beer. They weren't expecting it would be the start of another problem.

Sam should have known. Hetty had been planning something, but he didn't say anything because he knew G didn't want to hear it at the moment. Instead, he followed his partner, backing him up through the day, disobeying orders to do so. But G's instincts were solid and Sam wouldn't leave him alone.

It wasn't until he saw G put his badge down that reality came crushing in. Sam was loyal to his team and his partner, but he believed in a higher cause. The team represented the country. Sam was loyal to his team because the team worked for uncle Sam. The moment the badge was on the table, G wasn't part of the team. Sam hesitated for a few instants; then, he had his answer and it had nothing to do with sexuality.

He loved his SEAL buddies, but he would not have quit for any of them. His badge was set down next to G's without a word before he went after his partner. "Hey, wait up."

"What are you doing, Sam?"

"Backing up my partner," he answered without missing a beat.

"So, what do we do now?" Kensi asked from behind them.

When Sam turned, Deeks was walking out as well. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"To Prague." Kensi answered, as if he had lost his mind.

"You don't have to do this," G said.

"I've never been on a plane," Deeks answered, as if that had anything to do with the discussion. "I mean not a real plane, big, going cross country."

"Deeks, shut up," Sam said, but he was chuckling. "All right, pack up, get your passports, use a cover you haven't used in a while, text me the names and I'll get us tickets. We'll meet at my house in an hour."

"Yeah... about that." Deeks rubbed the back of his head. "You know how I never took a plane? Yeah, I don't have a passport in my name or anyone else's."

Kensi made a face. "How can you not?"

"L.A.P.D. Do you know what the LOS ANGELES PD's jurisdiction is? Oh right, Los Angeles. I don't need a passport to go from Hollywood to the Valley. I can drive," Deeks said.

"All right, you two. Stop it." Sam looked at Kensi. "Do you know anyone who can get him a good passport?"

She nodded. "It'll take us more than an hour though. Say two, and I'll text you the name. If we run late, we'll meet at the airport."

"Okay. G, let's go." Sam clapped his partner's back to get him moving despite the dazed look in G's eyes. He waited until they were in the car to speak up. "You didn't think they'd do it. You mean something to this team- to us, so much so I'll wait until we get to Prague to tell you how stupid this is."

* * *

The hotel rooms in most of Europe gave you two options. You could get a single room with a bed slightly bigger than a twin or a double room with a bed that was in between a queen and a king. There were no other options. It was too dangerous for four single rooms.

"I never thought this is how we'd be sharing a bed," he said as he put his bag on the table. They had reached out to get weapons. Tomorrow, they would get their guns and find Hetty. Tonight, they could rest. "Do you want to talk now? Because I have plenty to say about the stupidity of this trip."

"Who is the more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?" G quoted with a slight smirk before he moved to stand to one side of the room's one window, arms folded, checking the street below for threats while his mind tried to put the last forty-eight hours into some semblance of a logical order. "I knew how stupid this was before I handed in my badge. Even if I can get Hetty back and have some hope of things returning to semi-normal, I torched my entire career to do it. Forget NCIS. No agency is ever going to take me on, not after this, not with my history as it is. But, I couldn't make any other choice. It's my fault she out here. She's doing this for _me_. And, you guys..." He could only shake his head, still unable to understand why. He didn't deserve that kind of loyalty. "All three of you should go back now, while there might be some hope you haven't thrown your own careers on the pyre with mine. If Vance doesn't get us arrested, first."

"He doesn't have jurisdiction here," Sam answered, "and I can always ask to have my commission reinstated. They won't say no to a SEAL, and if they do, there are plenty of private firms. Even Mossad, I told you that. Got plenty of offers when I asked around. A job is the least of my problems.. I might end up making a lot more money."

He sat on one of the chairs in the room. "This is why she drives me crazy. She's had this information for who knows how long. She knew she was going to do this. She talked about a storm and how it would affect you. She ran off and did it by herself. She's even worse than you are because together we could have come up with a plan. Now, whatever we do, we don't know if we're screwing up her plan, and we're bringing the person they want dead right to them. As you can see, a new job doesn't worry me. Keeping you alive does." 

"Kindred spirits," G said, a half-smile forming despite the situation. "I've thought for a long time the reason I get on with her best is because I'm the one that's most like her. I don't have her ruthless streak, but I understand it. I understand her."

Sighing, he turned so his back was to the wall, no longer a target in front of a window. For a moment he just stared at his partner, his friend. He didn't think they could still be partners if they both quit. "Sam, there is no higher purpose to this other than family. This is purely personal. Hetty's like family to me. The same as the three of you are. We're not in the agency's world. They don't play by agency rules. I don't have your morals and I had no problems promising retribution for Matthias to keep him away from her while I still had a badge. I'm not wearing one now and I will be just as ruthless as I have to be to get us all out of here alive. Can you live with that?"

"People shoot at us, it's self defence, agency or no agency. I won't be the one starting the gun fire, but as soon as it looks like they might shoot, I don't have a problem shooting," Sam said. "I'm not asking you to follow the same rules, but I'm fine. We should still try to convince those two to go home. I know why they are doing it and I appreciate it. But, they shouldn't get involved. Deeks still _is_ an LAPD Detective and Kensi is so young. Vance might close an eye for her. Although I already know their answer. They are here because it is family, because it's you and Hetty."

He stood up again. "I don't do it for family. I wouldn't do it for Hetty. I'm a SEAL, G. Serving my country is something I've wanted to do since I was in high school. I only left because NCIS was giving me a chance to do some good inside the country. I wouldn't give that up without a reason, a good reason. Hetty going off on her own isn't a good reason. This is probably the crappiest timing in the history of bad timing, but when you left, I knew. You're so much more than a partner. I have no clue what all of this means, but you're not getting rid of me and I'm not leaving."

Swallowing reflexively, G had to close his eyes, turn away, to keep himself in check. The last few days had been one emotional hit after another and even the legendary Callen could only remain absolutely stoic for so long. Turning his head back, he opened his eyes again, but stayed where he was. "Sam, I swear, if this is some kind of we-could-die-tomorrow thing, I will kill you in your sleep when this is all over. We _could_ die tomorrow. But, what I said the other night? About not being able to hope? I meant it. I can't take it, definitely not right now. I don't need you to say it to make me feel better. I know you don't say things you don't mean, but are you even aware of what it sounds like you're saying?"

Sam snorted. "I might not like those word games you and Hetty are fond of, but I'm not stupid either. I know exactly what I'm saying; I knew it back at ops when I gave Vance my badge. That's when I clued in. You are the most important person after my kids and not because you're my partner. I'm not sure how this is making you feel better. Heaven knows I'm still confused, but I do know I'm in love with you. The sex part? I'm still having some problems coming to grips with that. Being attracted to a man was never even an issue. I'm not sure it is one now. It's not men; it's you."

He stopped and sighed. "Stop me when this is making you feel better because it really doesn't do it for me. I feel like I'm trapped in some weird Harlequin book."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know what's in one of those books." Those his tone was still calm and even, there was a smile tugging at G's lips again and, perhaps stupidly, he did feel better, lighter. Unfolding his arms, he turned to pull the drapes on the window closed, effectively shutting the rest of the world out for the time being. There was nothing he could do about finding Hetty for the night. But, he could do something about this. And, heaven help Kensi and Deeks if they chose this moment to come check on things or ask questions.

Crossing the room to where Sam stood, G reached up slowly to wrap his hand lightly around the side of Sam's neck. "The sex part is the easy part," he murmured, thumb brushing softly along Sam's jaw. "It can happen or not as you feel comfortable, as fast or slow as you want. We've both been married, even if mine was a fake marriage. We both have had other lovers; we know when something is about more than sex. This, what I feel for you, it's so much more than sex, Sam. That game we played in your living room was just that. A game. This is real and the sex part is whatever we want it to be, even if we never touch more than this." He leaned up, touching his lips to Sam's in a brief whisper of a kiss. "Or this."

"Girlfriends, G. They leave things everywhere. Even worse, they read those things aloud and you don't know if you're supposed to laugh and, if you do, whether you'll ever get laid again." It was much easier talking about books, especially after G had kissed him - again - and Sam still didn't know how he felt. Oh, he had no doubt about the love part. Strangely, that had been the easy one to figure out.

He put his hands on G's shoulders, staring at him. "Don't have to convince me this isn't about sex. I know I'm in love with you, probably have been for a long time, but it never clicked. I spent holidays and birthdays with you, we go out together, and it's not because I couldn't go with someone else, but because I want to spend the important moments of our lives together."

"Except for the summer cruises," G interjected with a smile.

"With my kids," Sam answered, laughing. "I did offer to buy you a ticket, although I think they deserve a week with their father. I so owe them for running off." He was grateful for the break, but it wasn't fair to keep this going. "I guess what I was trying to say is-" He stopped again. "I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess I always thought that first you're attracted to someone, then you fall for them, and then there's a horrible breakup. I fell for you first, and I'd like to avoid the breakup. The attraction-" Leaning forward, he kissed G once more, not the chaste touch from before, but a real kiss, holding G close with one arm, while he reached for G's cheek, a soft touch in sharp contrast from the insistence of his kiss. "If you think we're never touching, you need to revise your strategy," he said as he pulled back.

"Strategy revised," G breathed, more than a little surprised himself at how that one kiss had his heart racing. There was definitely still a hesitancy to his movements, however, as he smoothed both hands over Sam's shoulders, along his collarbone. Racing heart, revised strategy, or not, G was still going to go very slowly with this, until Sam was comfortable with whatever they did or didn't share physically, tonight or any night in the future. His eyes never left Sam's face. "You're going to have to help me out a little here, though. I meant what I said, this goes as fast or slow as you can handle. I can even wait until long after we get back to the States for anything more than that. So...was that permission to kiss you again?" he asked, even more surprised at himself for the uncertainty and patience he was revealing. "Or a promise for later?"

"A promise for later? Seriously? What are you? One of those Jonas brothers dating Justin Bieber? Next, we'll be wearing matching purity rings." The things one knew what he had kids. "Aren't we a little too hold for that? I lost my virginity before these kids were even born." He leaned closer, and brushed G's lips with his thumb. "How about in for a penny, in for a pound? Or even better, let's wing it. We'll figure it out along the way if and when to stop."

G's answering grin was slow and deliberate. "Winging it is my favorite method."

But, he didn't immediately kiss Sam again. Instead, G pulled back, still grinning, but there was a mischievous quality to the expression now. It was the sort of grin that heralded a severe deviance from a plan in the field, or the launch of a brand new game because he was bored and pushing Sam's buttons on a stakeout. Only the last thing he intended to do tonight was annoy the other man. He pointed at the bed. "Sit, take your shoes off, and comfortable."

Sam stared for a moment and then snorted. This wasn't how he had pictured things going, not that he had done much picturing, but the look on G's face was one Sam knew well. "Should I even bother to ask what you're planning?" The answer was obvious since he was already doing what G had asked. He puffed up the pillows and leaned back against headboard, legs stretched in front of him. "If you're planning to strip, I might have to call Deeks. He can rate your exhibition."

"Deeks couldn't afford the price of admission to this show." Sitting on the edge of the chair Sam had previously vacated, G shucked his own shoes and socks before standing again and just letting the moment sink into his brain. Even if they stopped before any actual stripping was involved, he had Sam Hanna in his bed, voluntarily...his bed in a hotel room in Prague the night before they went hunting for Hetty and the people potentially trying to kill G. If anything proved how far normality's place was from their lives, this was it.

"You and I started something in your living room one night," he said, getting onto the bed and moving closer. He was still moving slowly, but without the timidness of before. Sam would have ample time along the way to stop anything G did. Settling on his knees, straddling Sam's legs, he placed his hands on Sam's chest, to tease, for his own balance, just to feel all that muscle under his hands. "I think we should pick up from where we left off." His voice grew low, gravelly with desire he didn't have to hide any longer. "Something about offers and promises?"

G started gently, rubbing his lower lip across Sam's before using his teeth to nip and lightly tug Sam's lip between his own. He swept his tongue along Sam's lip once to sooth the sting of teeth, a second time to tease, and then a third time to deepen the kiss.

Sam didn't know what offers or promises. That had been a game; it'd been fake even if G had feelings for him because none of that would have been said at the time if it hadn't been a game. Sam didn't care for pretend games, not when they were both there and could have the real thing.

He responded easily to the kiss, catching G's tongue and sucking on it. He held G in place with a hand on his hip and the other at the back of his head, while he rocked his hips, his cock pressing against G's with layer of denim between them. Slow? G might have been willing to go slow, but Sam wasn't one to do things by halves once he set his mind to something. It was also so much simpler now that they were this close to each other.

He released G's tongue and he was kissing G again, trailing down his jaw and neck. "I'm figuring the sex things out," he said roughly against a wet patch of skin on G's neck, before he started sucking, so damn aware he couldn't leave a mark.

"Yeah?" G managed on a quiet moan, the sensation created by Sam's mouth on his skin seeming to have a direct line to his groin. His head tilted to one side, giving Sam better access to his neck as G rolled his hips experimentally. It was enough to send a shudder through him as his cock rubbed against Sam's.

"Want you...so much." Things were moving faster than he'd planned, trying to ease Sam into this part of what was becoming their _relationship_. But, he could only hold back so much when Sam himself started pushing things along. He pulled at Sam's shirt until he could get his hands underneath it, feel warm skin and firm muscle under his fingertips as they traced the lines of Sam's abs, explored the contours of his chest. "Had to stay away. Crashing on your couch...with you in the other room, wanting you like this..." Pushing Sam's shirt further up, he took hold of the hem. "Off."

"Thought you couldn't resist me? You did a pretty good job," Sam said, between kisses. His hands moved over G's body, until he was tired of feeling cotton and denim, and G's suggestion was perfect. He let go long enough to take off his shirt, before pulling at G's. No matter the hunger and need so clear in their actions, Sam stopped and stared at G's chest while his hands mapped every scar and every ridge with slow movements, and when he was satisfied, he started kissing G, lips following the same trail his fingers had covered, taking even more time with the area around the scars from the bullets. When he had his fill, he looked up at his partner. "I want to see you naked."

Sam's lips and fingers traveling over the permanent reminders of how close either of them could come to dying had left him shivering, heat pooled low and liquid inside him, but nothing hit G harder than the way Sam looked at him as he made that simple request. Cradling Sam's face between his hands, G's kiss was soft, almost tender in a way distinctly at odds with his usual daredevil approach to life. As he broke the kiss, he slid sideways, off Sam's lap. Deft hands dealt with button and zipper, then hooked both jeans and boxers and pushed them down until he could kick the garments off with his feet.

G stretched out on his side next to his partner, head propped on one hand, the other hand reaching to take hold of one of Sam's and bring it to rest on G's hip. As much as he wanted to strip the remaining clothes from Sam's body, he knew this was one of those points along the way at which Sam could flounder. For all Sam's amazing bravery, G wouldn't let himself forget how new this was for his partner. "Anything you want," he whispered. "Anything. It's yours."

"Goes both ways." The words were whispered as if Sam were in a trance, eyes moving over G's body. He'd seen plenty of naked men in his life, hard not to when you'd been in the military for as long as Sam, but this was different. Then, it was a quick shower stolen during a mission, or someone walking into the room while you were changing. This was-

That was the confusing part. Sam never thought about a man's body that way, never stared at a man or tried to determine if he was good looking. His eyes locked with G and there was so much there. Sam wanted to wipe away everything but happiness and safety and all those other positive feelings G could fake so well while undercover, but rarely appeared in his every day life. That's when Sam realized body parts didn't matter. He was in love with G and would have done anything in his power to keep him safe and make him happy.

"I want you, insane, reckless, stubborn, withdrawn you." Sam pushed G to his back and lay on top of him, kissing him, not letting any doubt take the best of him now as he peppered G's skin with kisses, teased it with his teeth. He might be new to this, but he was no blushing virgin.

"Those are my best qualities." G tried to chuckle, but it came out as more breathy moans as he was pressed down into the mattress.

There was nothing shy or hesitant now in the way he moved, hands roaming over Sam's back and shoulders, mapping every inch of exposed skin. Those hands found their way between their bodies and G let his thumbs brush over Sam's nipples, rolling them in tiny circles. And, yet, it wasn't enough. Patience had never been his strong suit and Sam was making it pretty damn clear how overrated slow and careful was going to be. G moved his hands lower, fumbled a little as he worked the fly on Sam's jeans, and slipped one hand inside, fingers curling around Sam's cock and stroking once. "You are still over-dressed," he murmured, smirking at Sam before stealing another nipping kiss.

"I am," he said, grinning. "Was that a subtle request?" he asked teasingly, but he rolled off G to open his jeans and then push pants and underwear down at the same time, kicking them off until they pooled by the bed. Sam rolled toward G, reaching for his partner's hand, much like G had done before, and slid it down his chest all the way to his hip. "Is this what you wanted?"

G's eyes followed the path of their joined hands, taking in the powerful body of his partner with a brand new appreciation. In all his concern for Sam's comfort, he had conveniently forgotten the acknowledgement of physical attraction was still only a few weeks old for himself. That attraction was only heightened by the realization no man had ever been with Sam like this. There had been other lovers, but no other man had been given what Sam was giving G.

It was humbling and exhilarating all at the same time.

Grinning impishly, G slid his hand over Sam's hip, fingers kneading the muscles of his ass as G pulled his own body flush with Sam's. Skin slid against skin, cock brushed against cock, then slid alongside. It was impossible to remain still, each breathe bringing them into closer contact, and he moved restlessly against Sam, teasing them both with the too little friction. "That's more like it," he teased huskily.

"I already knew you were a cock tease." It was impressive that he could still joke, even if his desire crept into his voice. Part of his brain was still categorizing the differences, taking stock, almost like he was getting ready for a mission, but the bigger part of his brain was focused on how frustratingly good it felt to have _G_ so close to him.

He might not have done this with a man before, but sex was sex, and how hard could it be to make another man feel good? He was a SEAL; he'd succeeded in more complex missions than this. He sneaked out people from foreign country with people shooting at him. He could certainly figure this out, when the ultimate goal was an orgasm for both of them. There weren't even bullets coming his way.

Some other man might have hesitated, but not Sam, not now he had committed himself to this relationship. He drew circles on G's hip as he kissed his lover, and as the kiss continued he reached between their bodies and his fingers closed awkwardly around their cocks. Maybe there was some etiquette about this, but fuck if he knew, and he wasn't going to ask, not when his mouth found the perfect spot on G's shoulder to suck on, low enough any mark left would be covered by a shirt, eager enough to drown any sound Sam might be making.

"Fuck," G growled. "Sam..." Wordsmith and smooth-talking liar he might be, but there came a point when any cognitive function required for speech shut down and abandoned G all together. The moment he felt Sam's hand on his cock, stroking both their cocks together, was just that point. It was easy to fall into a rhythm, hips moving in time to that hand. In fact it was almost too easy, all of this. It was as if they knew each other so well instinct took over and the rest came naturally, so naturally it was beyond anything G had experienced with any other lover.

And he didn't care. Touching each other like this, it felt so good. How could he worry about how unlikely it should be?

"Sam...fuck, so good..." There was a sentence in there trying to get out, but G could barely think for the pleasure Sam was giving him. The words were gasped out between harsh breaths. "Want you inside me...didn't...plan for this...possibility." Not knowing what they were running into, he'd packed with an eye toward every possible encounter. But, having sex with Sam hadn't been a possibility he'd foreseen. There was likely lotion or something in the bathroom or his first aid supplies they could use. But... "No, protection."

Too much more of this and it might not matter, anyway.

Sam had to laugh, even if it was a strangled mix of laughter and desire. The entire thing was sort of comical. Hadn't planned! Like this should even be happening. "Didn't plan, huh? No shit. I plan for a lot of things, but having sex with the lead field agent of my team while on a mission to rescue our insane operational manager was not on any contingency plan I had."

His hand stopped and he stared at G for a moment. "Lucky for you, I actually date, go out, meet women." It was one of the things growing up in the 80s in Brooklyn taught you, always have a condom in your wallet. He rolled away from G and reached for his jeans. He left the wallet on the floor, picking up the single condom.

Kissing made the mission a lot simpler than talking. Sam raised the condom, but his eyes were back on G. It shouldn't be a big deal. No matter what politicians said, sex was sex, but it felt like it was for some reason Sam couldn't express. "You sure?"

"Am I sure? I'm sure." G kissed Sam's shoulder. "Sure that I need you." A kiss to the hollow where the shoulder dipped into the collar bone. "Sure that I want to feel you inside me." Light kisses along Sam's neck. "Sure I only want it if you want it." Finally, he pressed his lips to Sam's in a lingering kiss. "Nothing you aren't ready for, Sam."

"Me? Ready? I'm not the one about to have a cock up his ass. You can see why I care more about you. I can jerk you off, I can fuck you. You're asking for a blowjob, then we might have a problem. I'm not ready to get up, close and personal with a cock, even if it's yours. You're asking to fuck me, then you'll jerk yourself off," he said, calmly. "Does that make the parameters clearer here? So if you still want me to fuck you, I'm going to the bathroom to see what I can find to use."

G's lips twitched. Somehow, telling Sam his concern was adorable didn't seem like the best way to ensure G's continued good health. "As long as we're taking a time out for ground rules, I don't have any. They went the way of every other rule I like to bend. I don't like being tied up. That's about it. Now..." Reaching over, he plucked the condom from Sam's fingers and kissed him again, tugging gently on Sam's lower lip with his teeth as he pulled back. "Fuck me, Sam."

"Tie you up?" Sam frowned. "Really?" It wasn't like he didn't know what people did. _He_ didn't do them. He couldn't even look at that video from Dallas without feeling dirty. "We don't have that problem." He got up, walking toward the bathroom but he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "You don't have rules. I can't even- I shouldn't be surprised." He walked off without trying to make sense of what he wanted to say. The hotel was helpful with shampoos and lotions, but not so strangely there was no lube provided. It seemed they hadn't been aware of the insanity that came with having G. Callen around.

Sam grabbed the lotion and went back. "You're hopeless, you know that." If G refused to have rules for himself, Sam would have to make a few, enough to take care of his partner, and not just in the sexual area, but that was a discussion for after. "You're insane and I love you, and you'll have to tell me how you want to do this."

G could tell Sam was trying to get his head around what he'd said. But, this was definitely not the time to get into past experiences, especially when a good portion of them had some connection to a job. He was willing to tell Sam enough to convince him he wasn't going to hurt G, which G knew was his partner's biggest concern. He wasn't willing to bring up a lot of past issues and experiences that had no place getting in bed with the two of them.

"Insanity is part of my charm." G grinned, then reached for Sam. "It's been a long time. Slow and easy to start. But, come here and kiss me first." Ground rules or not, he didn't want to spook Sam with his own lack of rules and he wanted to remind his partner they were enjoying each other. It was...powerful and amazing, but in the end it was just the two of them taking care of each other as they had for the years they'd been partners.

Sam shook his head, but smiled. He'd leave G his insanity, while he took that slow and easy road for the moment. "Kissing I can do." He moved over G's body, holding his weight on his elbows. "We can do plenty of kissing, but I wasn't the one asking for more," he said, just as he lowered himself to brush G's lips with his. "Are you sure you want to kiss?" he asked, because G wasn't the only one who could tease. "We could talk some more," he said, lips meeting G's for a little longer now. "Or we could find something else to do." This time, Sam kissed him, allowing some of his weight to press against G's chest.

"Talk later," G murmured against Sam's lips. His arms wound up and around Sam's shoulders as they kissed. One hand curved over the back of his partner's head, while with the other he urged Sam further closer, reveling in the welcome pressure of Sam's larger frame pressing down on him. Languid kiss followed lazy kiss as he felt the heat of skin on skin burning through him again and he arched against the body of his partner, his lover, his best friend, his- well, everything that mattered.

"I love you." For all he'd talked of feelings and heard himself rant at length over falling in love with his partner, G hadn't said it like this yet, straightforward, simple and direct. It felt strange and unfamiliar, but freeing all the same, to admit it out loud for almost the first time. "I love you, Sam."

Without breaking away from the kisses, he felt around with one hand for the bottle Sam had brought back from the bathroom. "Give me your hand."

Sam smiled, because that 'I love you' was said with such surprise, and it was so like G to say it first and think about the implications later, at least when it came to them. Things were different when it involved work. "I love you, too," he repeated between kisses.

He moved to the side, resting on the mattress and only covering G in part as G poured the lotion on his hand. Men, women, this part didn't change, and Sam didn't have any hesitations as he prepped his lover. Slow and easy was something he could do, because it would give him time to kiss G over and over, taking his time this first time, and he planned it to be the first of many. He looked at G, seeing the need in those blue eyes left him breathless. "I can't believe I didn't see it before," he murmured.

"I didn't either." G met Sam's gaze as steadily as want and need would allow -- eyes wide and trusting, despite the flutter of anxiety, because he'd made the decision, while sitting on a beach trying to figure out his head and his heart, to let himself be open with Sam about his thoughts and feelings if that was what it would take to keep Sam in his life. He'd been afraid of losing his best friend. He'd never thought he could gain a partner in every sense of the word. "Not until I thought I was losing you," he continued, pressing a line of kisses up one side of Sam's neck. "Thought it was too late."

Whimpering softly, expected discomfort having given way to pleasure some time ago, G shifted, restless, instinctively seeking more. "Sam, please." He might be pushing again, but there was so much he couldn't say, so much still overwhelming him in the fact they were even here, together like this. It was slow and easy and not nearly enough and too much all at once. "I need you."

Sam couldn't move away, his lips never too far from G's, even when he spoke. "You were never losing me. The job was an issue, never you. You have me, G, had me from the first day we were partnered." Soft kisses landed over G's jaw. "Easy and slow, remember?" he asked, knowing he was teasing again when neither wanted or needed slow, both their cocks hard from the friction between their bodies.

"You want me to fuck you, is that it?" He wasn't sure if he was making sure or if he wanted to hear G say it again and again because it was still strange and exhilarating that his partner, the one person in the world he trusted completely, could want this.

Control kept switching from one to the other of them as easily as their banter in the car and G had the distinct impression it had moved out of his grasp again. Part of him thought he should have minded more. Most of him just _wanted_. Growling again, he pulled Sam in for another kiss, his tongue pushing past Sam's lips, invading his mouth in a very graphic display of what he wanted from his partner. His hand moved down and between them until he could take Sam in hand, stroking with the same slow and easy pace Sam was currently using to tease and torment G's body. "Yes, yes..Fuck, yes." His squeezed his hand a little more on a downstroke. "Fuck." He pushed back against Sam's hand. "Me."

Sam sucked G's tongue eagerly, rocking his hips and driving his cock against G's hip, before strong fingers closed around him, stealing a moan from Sam. He needed this as much as G, but when he pulled back, he had a innocent expression on his face that came from years of pretending. "No need to be so abrupt. I was only making sure."

He pulled his fingers out and reached for the condom, putting it on without any fanfare and then kneeling between G's legs. "You sure, right?" he asked again, but this time, he was smirking and didn't wait for an answer, before hooking G's legs on his elbows spreading him open. He stared for a moment. "I can't believe we're doing this." There was honesty and awe in his voice, but Sam shook it off before G lost his patience or he lost his resolve.

He pushed in slowly. _So tight_. Sam thought he might just lose it. He shifted his focus on G instead of what he was feeling, wanting this to last. G was lying there with all of his scars and marks, with the most open and genuine expression Sam had ever seen on his face. There were no covers, no half lies, nothing but the two of them. "You look good like this." And he didn't mean just how good looking G was, especially with his lips swollen and glazed eyes, screaming desire from every pore although he really looked good like this. No, he meant with the sense of peace that was currently there.

G couldn't believe they were doing this, either. Although, his disbelief stemmed from the fact nothing good ever came to him that could last, not the many reasons why they _shouldn't_ be doing this. But, even those doubts and fears that had plagued him since his lonely childhood fled as Sam entered him at last. Hard to fear abandonment when his _straight_ partner was surrounding him, filling him so completely. G couldn't take his eyes off the place where their bodies joined, not until Sam spoke again and then, when he looked up, the cocky grin would have been at odds with the emotion bared in his eyes if it had been anyone else. "View's pretty spectacular from here."

Twisting, the movement managing to send Sam just a little deeper and eliciting a raspy groan from G, he proved just how limber a forty-two year old man could still be when he put his mind to it by getting his legs underneath Sam's arms and wrapping them around Sam's waist, instead. The other position might have been easier, but this one let him get his hands on Sam with ease. G ran his fingertips lightly over Sam's lips, a soft smile playing about the corners of his own. "I think I'm ready to stop disappearing on you, now."

Sam laughed, low and breathy in G's ear. "I doubt it." Sex didn't cure all evils and G had too many demons. Even this couldn't make them disappear all together. But, hopefully, it would make things easier. "Just remember I'm here when you need me." This wasn't the time for sappy declaration, though, not when G was doing his best to drive him crazy with the pushing and touching. He leaned down and kissed G again. "Still slow and easy or can I fuck you properly now?" he asked with just a hint of a smirk.

"I can't get fucked if you can't find me," G pointed out with a smirk. The thing was, despite everything, Hetty had been right. Sam was his anchor. G might still disappear from time to time, but he had a feeling he'd never go far enough away Sam couldn't pull him back. Maybe he had once upon a time, at the beginning of their partnership before he knew he could trust Sam, but even before he'd realized what Sam meant to him, he'd stopped going far and he'd always come back. Laughing roughly, he caught Sam's lip between his teeth for a moment, then let go. "I thought you were in for a pound," he teased, playing on Sam's earlier words.

"Oh man, that's so cheesy," he said, chuckling. "Do you get your lines from bad porn?" Not that Sam knew what lines there were in bad porn, but it sounded good. He kissed G again, grinning. "Still, it answers my question."

Sam pulled back slowly, regardless of the exchange, until the head of his cock stretched the tight ring, and then he pushed in again. He repeated the motion, once, twice, then again and again, enough to know G was losing his patience. Sam doubted he'd have a second opportunity to push G this far, so he took his time until even his immense self control crumbled, and then rocked his hips harder, quickening his rhythm, each stroke driving him deeper inside G.

There was a slight hesitation. He knew what to do with women. Men were a brand new thing, but he caught on quickly, and his fingers wrapped around G's cock, jerking him off. "So close, baby. Come on; let go."

Sam taking his time, so fucking slow G almost thought his partner was trying to see if he could make G's previous demands turn into pleas -- the scarier thought being how close G was to actually begging -- had nearly undone him completely. Coherency had flown out the proverbial window as G's body moved on pure animal instinct, hips canting to meet Sam's, re-angling until the other man was hitting _that_ spot each time and there was only enough room left in his awareness for the heat of skin, the ache for more and faster and deeper and harder.

And, that sense of falling into a space where it was all about them...and need...had only intensified with Sam's hand on his cock, dragging G further down into the spiral of desire.

But, it was the word 'baby' that sent him over the edge, the endearment so often said in jest now carried so much need and affection in its deceptively small syllables. "Sam-" The prolonged teasing before this intensifying the pleasure until he literally shuddered from the force of it, his back arched one last time and G came with a groan of surprise.

The startled look on G's face was not what he was expecting, but he didn't have time to think about what that meant. He was so close, holding tight, because he had wanted to make sure G got what he'd asked for, but the moment he felt his cock being squeezed tight, reason and control evaporated, leaving simple need behind.

Sam thrust a few more times, and then his orgasm swept through him, muscles relaxing as the tension melted away. Still, he was careful not to put too much weight on G, even as he caught his breath. When he could speak evenly, he pulled himself up on his elbows and stared down at his lover. "One thing that's so much better; you never have to wonder if they came," he said, with a snort. "You okay, G?" He wasn't worried about the sex per se, but just how many lines they had crossed in one single night.

Breathless chuckles were the only response G could manage. Still wrapped in a warm lassitude as he traced random patterns over the sweat-damp skin of Sam's back with his fingers, his brain didn't seem to want to resume functioning just yet, perhaps avoiding the guilt and worry and practical concerns that would come flooding back as soon as they let the outside world intrude again. G was willing to forgo a snappy comeback in exchange for the chance to savor this connection a little longer.

"Better than okay," he assured his partner, that new, softer smile curving his lips once more. "You?" He supposed, if Sam was going to finally freak out about what they'd done, now would be it...or morning. G wasn't sure he could handle the suspense of waiting until morning. "Regrets?"

There was a silence, because Sam didn't know how to make G understand he could never regret the sex. "This isn't the game changer for me, G. I don't have random sex. Sex is always the result of feelings and a relationship. The moment I gave Vance my badge is when things changed, and I don't regret that for a moment. No job, no team, no rules to break. If anything it made it easier."

He kissed G softly. "I'm fine, but we need to get cleaned up and we're moving the dresser and TV in front of the door. I fucking hate not having my gun." It was the best they could do at the moment to protect themselves and the start of a brand new relationship didn't mean they could stop thinking about safety. "Will you be able to get some sleep?"

"Maybe?" G let out the breath he had been holding in the silence and shrugged one shoulder slowly. He couldn't remember a time when he felt safe enough to sleep, really sleep, without waking up or getting restless and wandering. He would have liked to think he could now, here, with Sam. But, the reality he'd been trying to hold at bay was breaking through again and with it came the worries and doubts and fears. Hetty was out there somewhere, tracking a person who wanted him, G, dead over some family feud that couldn't possibly be his when he didn't have any family at all. "Let's get cleaned up, secure the room, and we'll see."

He smirked, not ready to let reality claim total victory just yet. "Now I know what to get you for your birthdays and Christmases -- a secret cache of guns just waiting for you in every country you might chance to visit."

"Or we find jobs where we can get the guns no matter where we go," he said, grinning back. "You'll have to find something else because I like to be able to see and touch my gifts." Sam tilted his head, pressing their foreheads together. "If you feel too trapped, we move the furniture again and go for a walk or just hang out here and talk, but let's aim for sleep first." He gave G one more kiss, before he started moving. There were things to do, but Sam had every intention of getting back to bed and make sure G rested for the night.

* * *

Another day had passed, and now they were inside a van, in a rainy night in Prague. Sam cleaned his gun again.

"You going to keep doing that?" Deeks asked

"I hate buying guns on the black market. Don't know where they've been, when they were last cleaned, or by whom." There was a lot more he hated about this entire mission. They didn't know what they were facing, but they were bringing G to the people who wanted him dead.

"You cleaned it this morning," Kensi pointed out.

"Twice," Deeks added.

Sam ignored both of them and kept cleaning the gun. "This cheap ammo's going to jam."

"You didn't have to come, you know."  
"Yet here we are." Sam looked at G and they stared at each other, saying all the things they couldn't say aloud with people here.

G was the first to speak up. "Okay, let's do this. This time, leave at least one of them alive, will you?"

"Then don't make me have to save your sorry ass again." No matter what would happen out there, Sam would be right there with G. They'd deal with their relationship just as soon as they saved Hetty and went back home safe and sound.


End file.
